


A Chevrolet Movie Theater

by AERCHIVE (aerClassic)



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crossdressing, Fluff, Hongjoong is Seventeen Exclamation Points Ending in a Scream, Horny Fluff?, Humor, M/M, Parking, Questionable Dating Tactics, Semi-Public Sex, YunSan are Brats and tiktok stars, assumed infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24592399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerClassic/pseuds/AERCHIVE
Summary: Two for the price of one is probably not what Yeosang had in mind when he vindictively signed Hongjoong up for this class.
Relationships: Choi San/Jeong Yunho, Choi San/Kim Hongjoong, Jeong Yunho/Kim Hongjoong, Jeong Yunho/Kim Hongjoong/Choi San, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 336





	A Chevrolet Movie Theater

**Author's Note:**

> [sobbing] this was just supposed to be 4k of car porn idk what _happened_

It’s the loud buzzing vibrations of the back massager that finally does it. Yeosang holds the end of the cord in his fist, red eyed and bleary from being awoken yet again at ass o’clock in the morning because Hongjoong’s bad habit of staying up too late scrunched up awkwardly in his chair made the muscles in his back cramp up. 

“It is _four_ in the _morning_ ,” Yeosang growls. “ _Four_.”

Hongjoong scratches bashfully at the vinyl covering the left arm of his desk chair. “It is, yes.” He coughs. “Good morning?”

Yeosang brandishes the end of the massager’s cord like a weapon, as if he’s debating how hard it would be to stick the metal prongs into Hongjoong’s skull. “Hongjoong, man, I love you, but this has got to stop happening. Either find a massager that’s quieter or figure out a way to get your back fixed because I am literally two nights of interrupted sleep away from slashing your tires and then possibly your throat.” 

“You’re so violent,” Hongjoong says in lieu of an actual apology and spins in his chair a few times looking for potential escape routes. The door is out, Yeosang has that route blocked, but the window shows potential if Hongjoong can survive the six story drop…

“Four AM,” Yeosang reminds him. “And I have to sit in on three dissertations today. Be glad I’m just stopping at a threat.”

Hongjoong sighs, pulling his legs up so he can prop his chin on his kneecaps and pouts. “I really am sorry, Yeosang. It’s just—I got this really intense wave of inspiration and by the time I was out of it my back was screaming bloody murder and it was either the loud ass massager or me wailing in the shower while all of my muscles detangled themselves.” 

His roommate briefly purses his mouth, annoyed, before he blows out a slow breath through his nose. “I understand. Sort of.” Yeosang directs Hongjoong’s chair towards his bed and nudges at Hongjoong’s shoulders until he gets the hint to move. “Lie down and stretch out. I know enough about giving back massages I can probably help without you having to resort to more annoying noises.”

Yeosang, true to his word, forcefully pokes and prods at the tensed up knotted muscles cramped up along Hongjoong’s spine, which is as painful as it is a relief. Some part of himself does feel guilty for waking Yeosang up like this, for who knows how many times this month alone, and he would apologize, but between one vicious jab at a particularly stubborn knot and another has Hongjoong crying into his pillow. 

“Quit being such a baby,” Yeosang grumbles, though he relaxes the pressure he’s putting into his hands. “Hyung, you’ve got to take better care of yourself. Doing nothing but staying in that chair all day every day is going to wreak havoc on your joints.”

“I know,” Hongjoong replies. Because he’s not an _idiot_. It’s just, you know, the really nice ergonomic desk chairs are out of his price range on a teaching assistant’s salary. “I’ll look into a quieter model massager today.”

Yeosang remains quiet for a long time, diligently working through the worst of the tensed up and spasming knots. “What you need is to start getting some regular exercise,” he suggests. 

Ew. Hongjoong scrunches his nose. Exercise is awful, he thought Yeosang knew as much. Just to be sure, he stresses, “Exercise is awful, no thanks.”

Yeosang snorts. “Your body would appreciate it. I’m going to ask around and see if there’s an opening in an easy health class or something you can squeeze into.”

Hongjoong whines, then groans as Yeosang savagely attacks the last of the knots. “But Yeosang-ah—”

“Nope.” Yeosang punctuates the statement with a slap to Hongjoong’s ass. “Consider it payback for all those times you’ve woken me up before important schedules and cockblocking me when Seonghwa is over.”

“When have I ever cockblocked you? That’s a slanderous statement, sir.”

Yeosang flops his entire weight against Hongjoong’s back with a dramatic groan. “The last time he was here you demanded to braid his hair.”

“So?”

“So,” Yeosang drawls, “we were in bed at the time and my dick was, like, fully out. And you _still_ invited yourself into my room.”

Oh yeah. Hongjoong squints at the wall in front of his bed trying to remember what had come over him that evening. More than likely he’d seen a tutorial on youtube and wanted to see how it would look in real life except he lacked the necessary length. It's also possible he hadn't slept for over twenty-eight hours and normal human reactions to anything were offline at the time. “But Seonghwa’s hair was so pretty and shiny and long that day! Plus, I did tell you guys you could finish first.”

“With you in the room?” Yeosang rolls them sideways, kicking at Hongjoong’s blankets until they go falling to the floor because he’s a mean spirited dickhole. “Anyway, his hair was pretty because he was actively trying to get laid. And it was _working_.”

Hongjoong offers up only a weak, “Sorry.”

“You should be.” Yeosang tangles their legs together. “So, as payback, I get to decide what kind of extracurricular exercise class you join for at least a month and you don’t get to complain. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Hongjoong grunts. He rolls over so he can cuddle in close to Yeosang’s chest, butts his head up underneath Yeosang’s chin, and sighs contentedly when his roommate deigns to wrap his arms around Hongjoong’s waist. “Less bitching, more cuddling.”

Yeosang hums, fingertips drumming against Hongjoong’s hip. “I have to be up in an hour.”

“Until I fall asleep then,” Hongjoong murmurs sleepily against Yeosang’s throat. He’s already warm and relaxed now anyway, all it will take is another thirty to forty seconds of quiet before the Sandman comes to whisk him away to dreamland. 

Yeosang laughs. “Alright.”

**\---------------------------------**

Hongjoong is trying to stress to Mingi the importance of implementing strategic autotune in ballads when Yeosang sends him a text:

_Wooyoung found you a spot in a dance class_

Mingi cranes his neck to try and read the message over Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Are you getting a booty call?”

Hongjoong sends off a quick, _i don’t dance tho,_ and turns back to glare at his protégé slash nemesis currently occupying what little room is left in the cramped closed door cubicle the school provided him with. “It is literally the middle of the day and I have office hours starting in ten minutes. What do _you_ think?” 

Mingi eyes him speculatively. “Yes?”

“When have I ever left work to get laid?” His phone buzzes with another message, _you do now_ , and Hongjoong grimaces at his phone. He responds with a desperate, _please i have two left feet you know this_ and hopes for the best. 

“I don’t know,” Mingi shrugs, “But you really should. Whatshisface was the last guy you were with and that was, what, two years ago?” He reaches over to grab the microphone Hongjoong keeps unplugged at the edge of his desk and starts singing in his most obnoxious voice, “Someone come fuck Kim Hongjoong’s brains out~!”

Mortified, Hongjoong whisper-shouts, “ _Mingi,”_ and wrestles the microphone back from Mingi’s evil clutches while his friend laughs himself to near tears. “Christ, the walls are thin in here. What if someone heard you?”

Mingi wipes at the tear tracks dripping down to his chin, still chuckling to himself. “Good. Maybe you’ll get someone to volunteer.”

“Not funny.” He can already feel the potential migraine making camp behind his eyeballs. 

It’s not as if Hongjoong isn’t _aware_ that he’s sad and alone and desperately single. His last relationship ended on a sour note—Jaehwan accusing Hongjoong of focusing too much on work and not enough on him, which was fair considering they really only met up to eat dinner and maybe try and squeeze in a quickie before Hongjoong had to disappear back into his studio for hours at a time. His work life is better now that he’s landed a somewhat stable job at the university, but Hongjoong’s bad habit of staying up late to work on music or reforming clothes means he’s still not the best candidate for an actual functioning relationship. 

Mingi interrupts his pitiful train of thought by dropping his chin to Hongjoong’s shoulder and cooing, “ _I’d_ volunteer.”

“We’d kill each other before you could even get your dick out,” Hongjoong sighs. Not to mention he’d have to put up with Jongho’s passive-aggressive pouting for even trying. “Thanks but no thanks.”

His phone pings:

 _You decided to braid seonghwa’s hair while we were naked,_ followed by _you dance. don’t worry it’s a formal class for geriatric seniors like yourself_

Mingi sniffs theatrically in mock outrage. “Rude.”

And Hongjoong, honestly, has to agree. Goddamnit, Yeosang.

**\---------------------------------**

Wooyoung finally chases him down after Hongjoong spends the entire afternoon dodging his phone calls and pretending to be just _oh so busy_ that he can’t possibly get away from work to go jazzercise with the elderly. 

“It’s not fucking _jazzercise_ , it’s ballroom dance.” Wooyoung gently prods at him with the padded grip of his selfie stick, heedless of how the action makes his already wobbly vlog even worse. “And it’s run by two of my best friends. Hyung, you’ll like it.”

Hongjoong scowls. He honestly just wanted to go alone, get the first class over with, and then spend the next three to four weeks bullshitting Yeosang on his progress. Except Wooyoung caught wind of his actual enrollment and demanded to escort him to the newly built hall, which was apparently easy to miss in the series of interconnected side streets between it and the university.

Wooyoung pokes him again with the grip. “Stop pouting.”

“I’m not _pouting_ , I’m just not looking forward to sweating in a room full of people I don’t know.” Hongjoong kicks at a pebble, satisfied when it skids close enough to an empty monster energy can to ping off the side of a nearby dumpster. “You know how I am with new people, Wooyoung.”

“You’ll be fine,” Wooyoung reassures him, hooking their elbows together with a grin. “Worst case scenario you spend three hours a week being a loser in the darkest corner of the room where everyone ignores you anyway. You’re lucky Yeosang only threatened you with a month.”

Hongjoong wilts against Wooyoung’s shoulder in a bid to slow them down, maybe get them so late he’s automatically kicked from the program and Yeosang has to find something else to torture him with...like a martial arts class. As if he can somehow divine the thoughts going through Hongjoong’s head, Wooyoung makes it a point to speed up.

“You really will like the guys who run the class.” Wooyoung gestures widely with the stick and phone combo. “They’re our age, but one is a youtuber like me and the other posts primarily on tiktok.”

“God, you kids and your tictacs,” Hongjoong grumbles.

“Tiktoks.”

“Fuck off.”

Wooyoung snickers. “Whatever, old man. We’re here.”

They stop at a relatively nondescript building with blacked out windows, a single flyer advertising the workshop, and a logo that is...different. Hongjoong squints at the white vinyl stuck to the door.

“Is that a bean with a dick?” 

Wooyoung slaps a hand over his mouth to cover his sudden bout of supremely unattractive snorting laughter. “Oh my god,” he cackles. “Oh my god that’s what I thought too! Apparently it’s supposed to be a person stretching one leg back and balancing on the other.”

Hongjoong grimaces. “Yeah, no, that is a legume with a phallus attached.”

“Don’t tell San that or he’ll throw a tantrum.” 

Hongjoong follows Wooyoung through the double doors and the empty front desk area to the studio proper. Clearly whoever ran the place didn’t much care if just anyone walked in and started snooping, the front door didn’t even chime to announce their arrival.

“Who’s San?” Hongjoong asks right as Wooyoung dramatically throws open another set of doors and screams, “I’ve brought the sacrifice!”

Hongjoong has exactly five seconds to feel embarrassed by his friend’s behavior before his brain almost literally shuts off. Standing in the middle of a room full of mirrors are two of the most attractive people Hongjoong has ever _seen_ , which is saying something considering he’s been in the same room as a half-naked Seonghwa on multiple occasions. The tallest one bounces on his heels almost like an overexcited puppy while the other just gives Hongjoong the stare down from hell—flinty-eyed and _hot_ and terrifying. At least, until his face breaks out into a smile.

 _Holy shit dimples_ , Hongjoong thinks in a daze. _I’m too gay for this_. Wooyoung unsubtly pokes him in the ribs. 

“Hi?” He offers up a small awkward wave, trying to shake off the ends of his comfiest sweater bunched up nearly over his whole hand. 

Tall and smiley grabs his fingers before he can put his arm down, waving their linked palms together like some sort of bizarro world handshake. “I’m Jeong Yunho, and this guy over here”— _Dimples, yes,_ Hongjoong supplies in his head—”is my partner Choi San. I heard you’re taking this class as punishment from your roommate?”

“Kim Hongjoong.” He dizzily notes Yunho’s hands are bigger than his own by what looks and feels like several orders of magnitude. What the hell does this guy eat? Growth hormones? Hongjoong coughs to cover his discomfort. “And something like that, yeah. Yeosang is a bully.”

Wooyoung snorts. “Yeosang is just tired of you being an inconsiderate cockblock and for using that loud ass massager that should have been thrown in the garbage ten years ago when it was made.”

San’s dimples deepen as his friendly smile turns into a smirk. “Massager?”

“It’s one of those vibrating chair attachment things for my back.” Hongjoong feels his cheeks flush. “And it’s not even that loud!”

“It sounds like a fucking buzzsaw,” Wooyoung stresses. “Like, dude, I’ve heard it myself and if it were any louder it would be the equivalent of a plane taking off in your bedroom.” 

Yunho still hasn’t let go of his hand. Hongjoong wiggles his fingers. “Can I have this back?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course. Sorry about that.” Yunho instantly releases him, cheeks turning bright pink. He and San trade a look with a lot of eyebrow wiggling on San’s part over Hongjoong's head, and, for once, Hongjoong decides to be wise and ignore them in favor of looking around the dance hall. 

One wall is nothing but mirrors. There’s some kind of torture device—re: horizontal fitness bar that Wooyoung is trying to simultaneously use while recording himself—and a not inexpensive surround system backed into the farthest corner Hongjoong wouldn’t mind getting his grubby little paws on. It’s the same kind of bland dance space he’s come to expect from watching idol fancams when he’s bored, though there is a distinct lack of...people.

Hongjoong blinks, confused. “Where is everyone? Am I _that_ early?”

Wooyoung, evil little goblin that he is, starts trying to hide his snorting laughter in his shirt while Yunho and San seem to share another moment of silent communication that radiates embarrassment even from where Hongjoong is standing.

“You’re not really early so much as you’re, ah,” San starts, hesitates, and shuts his mouth with an audible click, twisting his fingers around each other nervously.

“You’re the only person who actually signed up,” Yunho finishes for him. “Our advertising fell through and we only had time to stick a note on the window which obviously didn’t work.”

Oh, Yeosang and Wooyoung are _both_ going to get it when he leaves out of here. Hongjoong rubs tiredly at his temples. “So Wooyoung dragged me out here and there’s not even a class to attend?” He only just resists the urge to stomp his foot. He could have spent the last twenty minutes agonizing over a new song instead of being anxious about joining a group of people he’s never met and probably several decades older than himself. 

Wooyoung continues to giggle to his camera. Hongjoong notices San roll his eyes and throw one of his sneakers at Wooyoung’s fool head, grinning smugly when it connects with a satisfying thwap of rubber meeting Wooyoung’s arm.

Over the sound of Wooyoung’s outraged hollering—and San’s less outraged but whiny defense—Yunho gently takes Hongjoong by the elbow and drags him to the middle of the room. “There’s still a class, it’s just you’re the only one in it. You ever danced a waltz?”

“I have never done anything in my life,” Hongjoong admits, brainless and dumbstruck from the enormity of Yunho’s hand _totally closing around his forearm_. “Um, but I really don’t see how dancing is somehow going to help my back problem.”

Yunho placidly directs Hongjoong’s arms to his shoulders, drops his own to Hongjoong’s hips, and kicks at his feet until Yunho is satisfied by the positioning. “It’ll help. Dancing stretches a lot of the muscles you don’t normally use in your day-to-day so this will, hopefully, keep you from tensing up so hard when you’re working.” 

Yunho takes a slow step backward and Hongjoong immediately trips over his own feet, landing face first into Yunho’s sturdy chest. His wonderfully muscular, rock hard chest. Hell. 

Yunho grins at him. “Maybe it’ll just help with your coordination. Look, watch my feet, it’s like we’re trying to trace the outline of a box.”

And Hongjoong does, if for no other reason than he wants to not come across as totally inept at moving his legs. Yunho whispers a soft one-two-three count almost butting right up against Hongjoong’s ear and he’d think it was on purpose if Hongjoong wasn’t almost five thousand percent sure that by ‘partner’ Yunho meant San was his boyfriend. Significant other. Whatever they prefer to label themselves. 

He’s barely been around them for fifteen minutes and already Hongjoong is bitterly jealous they have each other. Yunho seems nice, and while he hasn’t really interacted with San, barely at all, he still thinks San is probably equally tooth-rottingly sweet. Hongjoong’s fingers flex along Yunho’s shoulders. They’re probably both hard in all the right places too.

 _Shut up, shut up, shut up,_ Hongjoong viciously projects at himself. _Shut the fuck up before you pop wood during a fucking waltz._

“Okay, let’s try without looking at your feet.”

“You’re asking me to break my nose on your hardwood floor,” Hongjoong says dryly. 

Yunho only grins bigger, slowly keeping them moving while still allowing Hongjoong to take the lead. “Nah, I’d catch you. So how do you know Wooyoung?”

Hongjoong looks everywhere but at Yunho’s face: at San and Wooyoung now wrestling in the corner, at the mirrors, at Yunho’s throat, at his own knuckles trembling on Yunho’s shoulders. 

“Through Yeosang.” Hongjoong clenches his hands to get them to stop. Apparently hot people cannot exist in close proximity without his body completely and utterly betraying how nervous they make him. At least Yunho is kind enough not to mention it. “You know how sometimes a person comes part and parcel with another and you either have to learn to deal with it or like them too and play nice? Wooyoung was kind of like that.” Hongjoong stumbles over his own feet and grumbles frustration at his ineptitude. “Yeosang took over my old roommate’s lease and Wooyoung invited himself over the second we finished getting Yeosang unpacked.”

“Sounds like him,” Yunho sighs. “He and San do a lot of collab videos so he’s usually invading our house at least twice a week. Not that I mind, but...you know.”

“Mmm.” Hongjoong guiltily swallows down the burn of jealousy making camp in his throat at the sort of confirmation of Yunho and San’s relationship. All the good ones are always taken. Hongjoong carefully forces his brain to blank when that niggling little voice in the back of his head tries to ask him which _one_ he was referring to and Hongjoong doesn’t immediately have an answer for it. He glances at San out of the corner of his eye—flushed and smiley and still play-grappling with Wooyoung. 

Both is probably a good enough answer.

Hongjoong chews his bottom lip. “To be fair, I managed to give the same treatment to Yeosang’s boyfriend when he started coming over because, let me tell you, I was not about to leave my spot in Yeosang’s bed when it’s bro cuddle time.”

Yunho’s face gets oddly intense. “Really?”

“Mhm.” Hongjoong looks down at their feet again to concentrate, furrowing his eyebrows down at the simple one-two-three square pattern trying not to lose his place. “Seonghwa’s been pretty nice about it though and joins in. Win for me since two people to cuddle with are always better than one.”

Yunho’s fingers spasm along Hongjoong’s hips. “You know, I agree with you. San would too.”

“Yeah?” Hongjoong grins. “Dude, my last boyfriend would not have agreed with you guys at all. He was always super pissy when he came over and I had my head in Yeosang’s lap or something, like, you could have joined in and everything would have been fine but _no_.”

“His loss.” Yunho clears his throat and when Hongjoong looks up, curious, Yunho’s cheeks are red to the point the flush has started to creep over the slope of his nose. “What about your current boyfriend? Or girlfriend. Whoever.”

Hongjoong groans, as if he really needed to be reminded about his perpetually single and alone status. “Don’t have a boyfriend, haven’t had one in _years_ and my dongsaeng at the university likes to rub it in all the time.”

Yunho giggles. Hongjoong grits his teeth because, while the sound is charming, Yunho’s face scrunches up when he laughs and it’s so fucking adorable Hongjoong almost wants to bite him to make it stop. Yeosang calls it acute onset cute aggression—hilarious, truly—though Hongjoong thinks it’s more his inability to be around anyone even slightly attractive without making an absolute fool of himself.

“You two look cozy,” Wooyoung coos from the peanut gallery. 

Hongjoong sticks his tongue out at him. “I’m learning how to waltz.”

“I’m so proud of you for being able to walk in a box formation,” Wooyoung tells him with the utmost sincerity. “Truly a dancing icon of our generation.”

“Har, har, keep making fun of me and I’ll tell Yeosang about the thing he doesn’t know about.”

Wooyoung blanches. 

San props himself up on his elbows from his prone position on the floor with a curious look on his face. “What thing?”

Hongjoong allows himself a single moment of cruelty to watch Wooyoung squirm before letting him off the hook. “Nothing I can mention in polite company. He knows what he did.”

“I know I’m going to leave you here to walk home alone if you don’t quit it.” Wooyoung aggressively makes a show of grabbing his filming gear and addresses his audience of the future, “And here we see Kim Hongjoong sabotaging any chance of me buying him chicken skewers on the way back home. Such a shame.”

Hongjoong hastily lets go of Yunho’s shoulders to run at speed into Wooyoung’s arms. “Young-ie! Be nice to your hyung who you love the most!”

“Absolutely not.” Wooyoung denies, though ruins the statement nigh instantly by hugging him forcefully around the waist and swinging Hongjoong around like a sack of potatoes, which, _how_. Wooyoung is about the same size and shape as himself and the only person Hongjoong has ever been able to lift was Jongho who humored him by jumping first. “Hey, are you guys finished for today? I’m hungry.”

San shrugs. “Don’t see why not.” Hongjoong feels his whole body go hot and shivery when San directs his gaze in his general direction. “Are you good with the same time on Thursday?”

“Y-yeah,” Hongjoong stumbles. “Thursday is fine.”

Yunho waves at him on the way out, though San doesn’t offer much other than a polite, “See you.” 

_It’s only a month and then I won’t have to face them ever again,_ Hongjoong reminds himself. _I can manage to avoid making an ass of myself for that long at least._

**\---------------------------------**

Yunho watches Hongjoong race Wooyoung out of the double doors of their dance hall with his arm still raised in farewell. He doesn’t even register San dropping his chin to his shoulder until his boyfriend blows hot breath over his earlobe, biting the skin until the sting gets Yunho’s attention.

“So,” San starts. “You look...interesting right now.”

Yunho reaches back to fist his fingers in San’s hair, the part right in the front with the bleached section they’ve been trying for a week now to go platinum blonde. San just settles his arms around his waist waiting patiently for Yunho to continue. “I love you.”

“I know you do,” San coos, “And I love you too. Now, _explain_ because I’ve missed something and you look like you’re ten seconds away from following Hongjoong home.”

Yunho bites the inside of his cheek, rolls his lips between his teeth and nervously fidgets within San’s grip around his waist. “He, um, he might be...San, you have to spend some time with him in our next session. He’s really fucking cute.”

San is quiet. He is deathly still pulled in tight to Yunho’s back and Yunho isn’t sure if it’s a good kind of reaction or a bad one. They’d openly talked about feeling alone when they’re together, like a piece is somehow _missing_ even though they love each other fiercely and spend almost all of their time together, but that had all been in theory. To actually think he might catch feelings for someone he just met who isn’t San is—

Yunho breathes hard through his nose. In his distraction, San had reached down to cup his slowly growing erection gently through the thin material of his sweatpants. “This for me or him?”

“Might be b-both,” Yunho stutters and jerks when San continues to fondle him almost in view of the outside windows. “Is that...alright?”

San hums. “I’ll figure that out in the next session. Want some help?”

“Please,” Yunho nearly whines, groaning louder when San wastes no time in dropping to his knees and directing Yunho to stand in front of the big mirrors so that Yunho can watch from almost every angle.

**\---------------------------------**

Yeosang accepts his weight when Hongjoong comes home and faceplants into Yeosang’s lap while he’s busy watching nature documentaries on their couch. 

“How was it, blondie?” Yeosang gently threads his fingers through Hongjoong’s hair, scraping against his scalp in just the way Hongjoong likes. “Hard day?”

Hongjoong closes his eyes and pictures the strength of Yunho’s hands on his waist, the hard slope of his shoulders. In his mind’s eye, San is there too, huddled in close to Hongjoong’s back so he can feel sandwiched between a rock and a hard place but, like, in a good way as the three of them sway to an imaginary beat. He sighs. “You could definitely say that.”

**\---------------------------------**

Alright, so, _objectively_ , spending sixteen collective hours in the time before his next meet up with Yunho and San building an advertising campaign and looking up the cost effectiveness of a video ad thrown up on the subway for a week is probably not the smartest thing he could have done with his free time, but the look on San’s face when Hongjoong stumbles into the dance hall with his arms laden with printouts and spreadsheets is worth it. Maybe. Possibly.

Hongjoong toes at the flooring and does his best not to look either of them in the eyes. “All of this is just conjecture because I don’t know what your advertising budget is like or how much rent for the building costs, but I thought, you know, maybe you guys could look this over and see if it helps bring in business?”

Yunho is busy flipping through the stack, ooing and ahing at the different figures and graphic mockups, but San is—

Hongjoong swallows. San is looking at him like he can’t decide if he’s going to punch Hongjoong in the mouth or hug him. He hopes it’s the latter. 

“This is none of my business, obviously,” Hongjoong quickly tries to defend himself. “I just, um—” He shoves his numb hands deep into his pants pockets, cursing the weather and for forgetting to grab his jacket in his haste to make it to the dance hall on time. “Sorry.”

San hands off his stack to Yunho and approaches Hongjoong rapidly, like a cat on the prowl or like someone who is gearing up for a fight. Hongjoong flinches when San is a half step away, reaching for him—

And blinks when he’s pulled into a hug. He says something idiotic like, “bwuh?” that, thankfully, gets muffled against San’s throat. 

“Thank you,” San husks, “It means a lot that you’d do this for us.”

“‘S nothing,” he breathes, fingers itching to slide along San’s waist to feel the clench of his muscles beneath his palms. “Just wanted to help if I could.”

San tugs him toward the surround system so they can spread everything Hongjoong brought with him on the lone table. Hongjoong learns two things: San’s hands are just as nice as Yunho’s and that the pair of them make fuck you amounts of money from Youtube and sponsorship deals. They actually own the building outright, renting out the top floors as office suites and letting their accountant invest the rent money as they see fit. 

“We’re terrible at the advertising side of things,” Yunho admits, head leaning against Hongjoong’s thigh from his position sitting on the floor. “Usually we have someone do that for us, but we had to let him go recently for...not very nice reasons.”

“He was a bigot,” San says point-blank. “And if I could take every cent we fed his bank account back I would.”

As the impromptu meeting goes on, it becomes increasingly obvious that San and Yunho have the same lack of boundaries that Hongjoong suffers from and, somehow, each of them ends up holding one of Hongjoong’s hands. San uses their interlocked fingers to point at bullet points he thinks would be interesting additions to any would-be campaigns while Yunho just gently bops their hands together against Hongjoong's thigh because he is incapable of sitting still. 

It makes him nervous, if Hongjoong is honest, because the skinship is nice and he’s always the first to invade personal space, but he’s never done this with a couple who wasn’t Yeosang and Seonghwa. Yeosang and Seonghwa usually just offer him a double sided hug before kicking him out of their space, he’s never experienced _this_. Holding hands for no other reason than they could without some kind of hidden meaning attached and Hongjoong isn’t the type to tell them no, not that he wants to.

Hongjoong loses track of how long they sit huddled up pouring over his printouts after hour two. Yunho’s head is a warm weight against his thigh, San has pushed their seats together until their legs touch beneath the table and the body heat radiating off him in waves is almost enough to make Hongjoong forget he’s going to have to leave here and become a walking human popsicle.

San rubs at Hongjoong’s arm. “Your fingers are so cold! Where’s your jacket?”

“Left it in my office.” He kicks his feet a tad petulantly against the metal legs of the folding chair. “This place isn’t that far from the university so I didn’t think much of it until I was already most of the way here.”

San squeezes their fingers tight. “Be right back,” he says and, bizarrely, leans over to press a quick kiss to Hongjoong’s cheek as if Yunho isn’t _right fucking there_. His brain blanks, mind fuzzing out like so much television static. Yunho doesn’t say anything. Hongjoong swallows, rough, much like he’s trying to force down rocks. Maybe they’re just the type to be overly affectionate without realizing it?

San comes back with a sweater Hongjoong remembers seeing in one of the magazines Jiwoo likes to leave laying around in the break room. “Here, you can borrow mine so you don’t get a nasty case of frostbite going home.”

Hongjoong accepts the oversized Raf Simons sweater with his mouth gaped open like a fish. “You—are you sure? Isn’t this expensive?”

“Dude, it’s just a sweater,” San laughs at him, though it comes off more of a tease than it is San actively making fun of him. 

Hongjoong shakes Yunho’s hand away so he can pull the sweater over his head. The wool feels heavenly, soft to the touch and still smelling faintly like San’s cologne. The sleeves are so long they hang over his fingers by several inches. Hongjoong curls the material in his fists and smiles at San, grateful for the warmth. “Thanks, man, really. I’ll get it back to you the next time I’m here.”

“No rush,” San answers, kind of garbled and squeaky. “You can, uh, you can keep it for a little while if you want. I don’t mind.”

**\---------------------------------**

Yunho straightens the stack of papers they’d strewn over the table and, from the corner of his eye so it doesn't look like he's trying to spy, keeps a careful watch on San returning from seeing Hongjoong out. His boyfriend says nothing for a long moment, leaning against the double doors with his head against the wood. 

“Babe? You alright?”

San makes a show of scraping his nails against the grain as his knees give out and he slides slowly to the floor. “Fuck.”

Yunho laughs. “Is that good or bad?”

“I wanna see him in each and every one of my sweaters,” San faux-sobs into the flooring. “Oh my god, Yunho.”

Yunho crouches next to him and rubs comforting circles along the curvature of San’s spine. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” San hisses, still hidden, though Yunho can see his neck turning pink. “Fuck. Are we really doing this?”

Yunho slowly joins him on the floor so he can pull San to his chest. “I like him,” he confesses with his mouth touching San’s forehead, because it’s true and they’ve been together long enough that it doesn’t feel world ending to acknowledge something as simple as a potentially passing crush. Hopefully it isn’t, but if San decides he doesn’t want to share then Yunho is more than willing to let it go.

“If he’s open to it, I’d like to try.” San pulls Yunho closer by his shirt. “Love you.”

Yunho hums. “Let’s take a nap. We can strategize the great seduction of Kim Hongjoong when we wake up.”

His boyfriend buries his laughter against Yunho’s throat. “Sounds like a plan.”

**\---------------------------------**

As if a switch gets flipped overnight, Yunho and San ramp up the personal space invasions to a degree that makes Hongjoong nervous. Yunho teaches him the foxtrot one week and makes a point to dip Hongjoong backward with a hand running the length of his calf, saucy smirk in place totally ruined by the way Yunho’s face scrunches up trying not to laugh. San offers up back massages and, oddly, his sweaters. Hongjoong leaves so often with more additions to his wardrobe that Yeosang is starting to give him the side-eye like he suspects Hongjoong is spending his paychecks on expensive clothing instead of rent.

He still gets tongue-tied and stumbling around them. Every casual touch to his waist or his arm, every slide of San’s hands along his back, makes him flush so red for so long Hongjoong thinks he may be in danger of changing colors for good—as if he’ll become the first human lobster hybrid. He tells himself over and over again that getting a crush on two people at the same time, who are _dating_ each other, is a monumentally terrible idea, but it doesn’t stop his heart from fluttering and his palms sweating just by existing in the same room with them. 

At the end of the month he’d promised Yeosang he’d get through, Yunho and San take him out for a celebratory dinner to a steakhouse far and above Hongjoong’s pay grade. Even the tablecloths are made of a fabric that’s better than at least nine tenths of his wardrobe not commandeered from San.

“Order whatever you’d like,” San informs him. “It’s our treat.”

“Are you sure? Most of this is more than my food budget for the entire week.” Hongjoong can feel Yunho’s legs vibrating next to him beneath the table and frowns, grabs at his kneecap to get Yunho to stop. “Dude, calm down. What’s with you?”

Yunho grips tight to Hongjoong’s fingers, though his legs do stop shaking as if he’s going to come vibrating out of his skin. “Sorry, I’m just nervous.”

Hongjoong squints at him. “Nervous?”

San taps his menu against the table. “What he means to say is we have something we wanted to discuss with you tonight.”

Whatever it may be gets interrupted by their waiter coming by to take their orders, leaving a bottle of red wine on the next pass and San distracts the table by pouring everyone a generous glass. It’s the expensive sort of wine that goes straight to his head and leaves Hongjoong feeling giggly and loose, makes him feel brave enough to allow Yunho to hold his hand underneath the table without having an internal panic about it first.

Hongjoong finishes the best slice of beef he’s had in his life in record time, slouching in his chair with a full belly and deeply pleased with the world. San nudges their ankles together.

“So that thing we wanted to discuss,” San starts, “We wanted to ask if you—”

“No pressure,” Yunho interrupts, “We don’t want you to feel obligated.”

Hongjoong glances between them, confused. “Alright?”

San and Yunho each take one of his hands, though San is the first to speak again. “We wanted to ask if you’d be with us.” His face gets oddly intense. “Exclusively. And maybe help film our tiktoks every once in a while.”

He can see Yunho nodding emphatically out of the corner of his eye. Hongjoong blinks. This is the oddest way anyone has asked him to join their company, but it’s sweet. Maybe the sixteen hour research session the nights before their second meetup in the studio left an impression—clearly Hongjoong was a profitable addition to the team and Yunho and San were trying to snap him up before Hongjoong went off to sell his ideas elsewhere.

“Okay,” he says easily, because why not. It’s a good enough excuse to continue hanging around people he may or may not be crushing on as any. “Sounds good to me.”

San’s face breaks out in a wide grin, as if he’s been told Christmas has come early and Santa has left him a new Lamborghini at the same time. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Hongjoong yawns and leans against Yunho’s shoulder for support. “But let’s start all that tomorrow, mh? I’m tired.”

“Here.” Yunho slides half of his remaining steak to Hongjoong’s plate, kissing Hongjoong’s cheek when he’s done. “For strength.”

“Am I going to need strength for this?” Maybe they were going to have him film and carry around that heavy looking camera like their personal pack mule. 

“We’ll go slow,” San coos and slides his foot up the length of Hongjoong’s leg with a smirk. 

_Ominous_. Hongjoong thinks with a mouthful of Yunho’s steak.

**\---------------------------------**

“Get in, loser, we’re going to Build A Bear.”

Hongjoong dubiously eyes the enormous SUV parked outside of his apartment building and thinks very seriously about reevaluating his friendship with Yunho, who only grins and kicks the passenger door open for emphasis. 

“Will this thing even fit in the parking garage at the mall?” Hongjoong clambers into the seat, cringing at the small pile of empty energy drinks on the floorboard. “Also, no offense, but you’re going to give yourself a heart attack drinking these things.”

“Nah, I workout and eat healthy the rest of the time, it’ll be fine.” Yunho slowly merges them into traffic. “And anyway we have a six month supply of bang energy to get through.”

Hongjoong toes through the collection of clinking aluminum. “Is that what you say to San when you’re horny?” And immediately regrets everything that has ever come out of his mouth. He pulls his shirt as far over his face as he can manage, right up under his nose. “Sorry, nevermind, ignore me.”

Thankfully Yunho only laughs and glances over with his eyebrows cocked. “Want to find out for yourself?”

“Shut up.” Hongjoong plaintively whines, blindly mashing at Yunho’s nose as he tries and fails to bury himself in his shirt.

“Your loss.” Yunho catches his hand, kisses the knuckles once, and rests their laced fingers over the gear shift for the rest of the drive.

“Why isn’t San with you today?”

“Our manager called him into the office to go over some contracts and sponsorship offers we received last week.” Yunho squeezes their hands together. “You’ll at least see him tomorrow if he isn’t finished by the time we get back.”

The shopping mall Yunho takes him to isn’t as packed as Hongjoong expected it to be, especially on a Sunday when most people are off work and trying to find something to do to entertain their kids. Yunho gets stopped a few times by fans—young kids, a few adults, two teenage girls that fall all over themselves asking for selfies and an appearance in their tiktoks—and Hongjoong hangs back feeling out of place and awkward. Yunho goes to grab his hand and Hongjoong panics, because what if someone sees them and gets the wrong idea? Takes photos and accuses Yunho of cheating on San when all he’s doing is taking a friend out on a stuffed animal adventure?

Yunho picks out a matching bear to Hongjoong’s own and demands they trade off kissing the hearts so that he knows Hongjoong will have a token of his affection when he and San are out of town. “And then I can take this one home to brag that I have your kiss and San doesn’t,” Yunho jokingly holds the completed bear to his chest. “He’ll be so jealous.”

“Both of you are so weird,” Hongjoong tells him with conviction. Yunho only shrugs, totally unconcerned with the truth.

The woman manning the stuffing station watches them with a smile, and after she finishes adds an offhand, “You guys seem like a sweet couple.”

Before Hongjoong can correct her, Yunho is pulling him closer to his side by one of Hongjoong’s belt loops and squashes their cheeks together. “Thank you.” 

Hongjoong’s jaw shuts with an audible clack. It’s one thing to joke around when it’s just the three of them goofing off in the studio, but for Yunho to go out of his way not to explain that, no, they weren’t a couple they were just two friends hanging out makes Hongjoong’s pulse skyrocket. Would San have said the same thing? Would he be angry at Yunho for playing up the joke? 

He’s so dizzy with the possibility of San being angry at him that he doesn’t hear Yunho speaking until he’s holding the bear, now clad in brown tartan with a miniature deerstalker, right against Hongjoong’s nose proclaiming his name to be Gregory. 

“No,” Hongjoong says, reflexive, and, “Why _Gregory?_ Name him something cool like Sherlock or G-Dragon.”

“Stop bringing up G-Dragon or you’re going to make me jealous,” Yunho huffs, clutching fucking Gregory to his chest defensively. “And anyway Sherlock would be too boring.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes and admits, “I do not understand you sometimes.”

“Just give it time.”

Hours later, when Yunho drops him back off at the apartment, he grabs Hongjoong’s wrist before he can get out of the car and smiles, small and secretive and pink cheeked across the center console. “Um, I had a lot of fun today, hyung.”

“Same,” Hongjoong agrees, and grins, “Even if you did give your bear a weird name.”

Yunho’s shoulders shake with mirth, though the grip he has on Hongjoong’s wrist doesn’t waver. As if he’s experiencing it from outside of his body, Hongjoong watches Yunho lean in slow, careful, and doesn’t think to move until their lips meet in a simple closed mouth kiss. It’s quick, barely lasting more than a second, but it leaves Hongjoong feeling hot and cold at the same time. 

Fuck.

 _Fuck_.

Was this cheating? Should he tell San?

Yunho leans back and releases his hold, pink all the way down to his neck and grinning from ear to ear. “See you tomorrow?”

“Y-yeah,” Hongjoong stutters, “Tomorrow. Right.”

He feels guilty and giddy in equal measure, happy to know what it’s like to know the size and shape of Yunho’s warm mouth against his own but his stomach turns thinking about San. Should he tell him what happened? Will Yunho?

Hongjoong traces his lips in the shower and wonders what it would be like to kiss San as well. He rests his forehead against the warmed shower tiles, cock hard at imagining the two of them rubbing against him, fucks his hand to the imaginary phantom sensation of their hands and their lips probing across every inch of his skin.

_I’m a bad, awful person._

**\---------------------------------**

San says nothing about the kiss the next day so neither does Hongjoong, hoping that Yunho will be the one to broach the subject and they can all move on from the mistake. He feels awkward in his skin, stumbling over his own feet to choreo he knows by heart and shouldn’t be having any problems with. After the fifth fall in an hour, Hongjoong accepts his fate and tries to become one with the flooring, spread eagle in the middle of the room while Yunho practices his own fluid movements on the other side.

San drops down next to him. “Giving up?”

“For now, yeah. My back hurts.”

The first press of San’s hands to his back is a welcome distraction from the gnawing guilt still swirling in his gut. The achingly slow slide of them from the top of his spine down to just above the swell of his ass makes Hongjoong squirm for an entirely different set of reasons. San murmurs half phrases like, “Feel good?” and, “How’s that?” after each pass, and, honestly, Hongjoong is so out of his head he can’t even begin to process how sad it is that he’s getting hard from a simple massage. He’s been touch starved for years, hasn’t even allowed himself to think of hooking up with anyone since Jaehwan walked out, so maybe it’s not completely pathetic that, when San digs his thumbs in a wide arc over the ridge of Hongjoong’s hips, Hongjoong moans quietly into his arms.

San pauses, his voice is dark and syrupy sweet when he says, “Sounds like your back isn’t hurting anymore.”

His whole body feels encapsulated with heat and Hongjoong decides cowardice is the better part of valor and curls into a ball. “Leave me alone, it’s just...been a while.”

San drags his fingers through Hongjoong’s fringe, damp with sweat and clinging to his forehead. “I’m not making fun of you.”

“Mngh.”

“I’m _not_.” San lies down beside him so they’re forced to make eye contact. “But we can take a break if you need me to stop.”

Yunho is still focused on perfecting some hip gyrating move that Hongjoong can feel vibrating through the floor against his cheek. He breathes hard through his nose, willing his erection to go back down. “I think it might be best if I call it a night.”

“Okay,” San agrees easily and helps him up, politely saying nothing about the still obscene tent in Hongjoong’s jeans. “I’ll walk you out, come on.”

Hongjoong apologizes when they’re just outside the doors, pulling his coat over his arms and tugging the ends as far down as he can manage over his hips. “I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

San waves him off. “You’re absolutely, totally fine. If you want a ride I don’t have a problem driving you.”

Hongjoong shakes his head. “The walk will be good to help me cool off.”

San purses his mouth like he wants to disagree, pull Hongjoong to the parking garage and drive him home anyway, but he settles on holding Hongjoong’s hand. “Be safe getting home, alright?” 

Before Hongjoong can reassure him, San is tugging him forward, delicately sliding his fingertips along Hongjoong’s jaw and kissing him soft and sweet, eyes shut, until they separate and San is smiling. “Now we’re even.”

Hongjoong’s veins turn to liquid ice, cold pulsing through his chest. “Oh. Right. Yeah.”

San just laughs. “Get going before I drag you back. See you tomorrow, hyung.”

The walk home is spent in a blur of panic, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth to keep from spewing bile or, worse, smiling as if everything is okay. San kissed him. San _kissed_ him. Because Yunho did it first and San knew about it. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” he confesses into Yeosang’s lap while his roommate tries to watch yet another nature documentary on the couch. 

“Here, here,” Yeosang cheers with a shitty half wave of his left wrist. “Just watch the nice hermit crab find a new shell with me.”

**\---------------------------------**

The months roll by in much the same fashion. Yunho or San will try to teach him new choreo, they’ll leave as a group to eat dinner or watch a movie or invade Hongjoong’s personal space by clambering into his bedroom for more roughhousing until Yeosang yells at them to stop. Sometimes Wooyoung will join in or Hongjoong will invite Jongho to tag along when he needs a human buffer—especially after Jongho had found out Hongjoong hung around with his favorite content creators.

Hongjoong’s problem is that he’s becoming increasingly aware that his attraction to the duo is morphing into something...more. Something that’s getting harder and harder to ignore, especially with the easy affection San and Yunho drop on him out of nowhere. A hug at the door when he walks into the dance hall. Twirling him around by his fingertips until Yunho can dip him back to blow a gentle raspberry against the column of his neck. A kiss to his hand or his cheek for perfecting an objectively difficult move, like a reward for performing a trick.

Other times they’ll pause out of seemingly nowhere and pull him in by his ears to land a sweet kiss to his mouth. The kisses never really last more than a few seconds, aside from a night four months into their odd working friendship—and twelve days, not that Hongjoong had been counting—Yunho tired himself out enough that he sleepily tried to kiss him and ended up mouthing along Hongjoong’s jaw. San had just left them to it, too busy arguing on the phone with Jongho about something Hongjoong could honestly not even begin to guess.

Hongjoong comes home from his latest outing and doesn’t bother greeting Yeosang in his haste to bury himself beneath the welcome darkness of his comforter. It’s not as if the day was particularly _bad_ : San had him film some of his busking before treating him to ice cream, played footsie with him under the table, and dropped him off back home with another confusing kiss to Hongjoong’s mouth. Hongjoong squeezes the blankets tighter over his head. He should...he should say something to San and Yunho about backing off but he knows he’s too selfish to ask them to stop. Every passing touch, every unthinking press of their mouths to some part of his skin sends his heartbeat skipping and Hongjoong doesn’t think he could willingly give it up.

Yeosang knocks on his door frame. “Hey. What’s with the spelunking act?”

Heart aching, Hongjoong sighs. “Just needed to decompress. I’m fine.”

He feels the bed dip near his head. Yeosang wrenches at the comforter until Hongjoong relinquishes his hold and pouts upward at his roommate’s face. “Spill.”

“It’s nothing, Yeosang.” Hongjoong pulls his pillow close to his chest and breathes hard against the cotton. If he buries his face long enough then maybe Yeosang will take the hint and leave him alone until tomorrow when it doesn’t feel like the world is crushing in on his ears.

“The last time you, ‘It’s nothing, Yeosang’ me, Jaehwan was breaking up with you and stealing the good paper plates on his way out the door.” Yeosang pushes at him until Hongjoong moves over, allows Yeosang room to lie down with him. “Is this about San and Yunho again?”

“Maybe,” Hongjoong muffles against the pillow. 

Yeosang grumbles his displeasure. “Why are you still hanging out with them if it’s just going to make you upset when you come home?”

“Because I’d rather have them as friends than not have them at all.” 

A low throaty noise. The one that means Yeosang is trying to figure out a way to not sound like a complete asshole and failing. “Have Yunho or San mentioned being poly?”

Hongjoong shrugs. He feels Yeosang’s warm fingers slide through his hair and pushes his head against Yeosang’s palm like a cat begging for attention. “You’re an idiot,” Yeosang tells him earnestly. “You like them, right? The same amount?”

Hongjoong chews at his bottom lip. “I like San for different reasons than I like Yunho, but, yeah. Yeah I like them the same amount.” He laughs self deprecatingly at himself. “Pretty pathetic, right? As if they need me hanging around lusting after them.”

Yunho and San were like the perfect package. Hongjoong grips at Yeosang’s shirt as his heart continues to throb. They were good together, have been good together for at least three years if not long before, and Hongjoong shouldn’t be getting ideas about inserting himself into the mix just because they were openly affectionate with their friends. 

“I don’t think you’re pathetic for having feelings and neither should you.” Yeosang pauses his ministrations. “But maybe this is a sign you should take a break. Stop seeing them for at least a week and see if time and distance helps.” Yeosang nudges their toes together. “Give yourself some space to potentially meet someone new who isn’t already in a relationship.”

It feels like his chest is being slowly cracked open just imagining not having them around, not being able to see Yunho and San for more than a day at a time as if he needs the constant reassurance that they’re real people to get through his day. Yeosang is right, because he’s always right, and Hongjoong doesn’t need to torture himself by watching and waiting for them to love him. As if it would happen. As if it _could_ happen.

Hongjoong sniffs, ugly and wet, and hiccups a small, “Okay.”

Yeosang says nothing when Hongjoong can’t hold back—shuddering as all the pent up sadness and useless pining crashes over him in a never ending wave of grief—just pulls Hongjoong gently to his chest and readjusts the blanket over their shoulders. 

**\---------------------------------**

Hongjoong feigns illness.

He downloads a dating app on his phone the first day and deletes it by the second, sickened by even thinking of anyone but Yunho or San touching him. Seonghwa brings him chocolate and Hongjoong’s favorite flavor of chips the next time he drops by, and even Jongho and Mingi seem to catch on that Hongjoong is miserable since their usual antics are reserved for the spaces _outside_ of his cubicle. He tells himself to avoid looking at Yunho’s tiktok or San’s youtube channel, though he finds himself staring at his lockscreen of the three of them posing in front of the wall of mirrors more often than doing any actual work.

Hongjoong spends the better part of the week trying to decide if the misery of not being able to see Yunho and San is worth the heartache of being constantly in their orbit. Maybe there was something to the saying misery loves company. 

Yunho and San let him get away with avoiding their text messages and the dance hall for exactly five days before they metaphorically knock down the door to his apartment. 

“Your boytoys are outside,” Yeosang says with a scowl. “Want me to run them off?”

Hongjoong sighs, leaning his forehead against his desk. “Just let them in.”

“Is that...wise?”

“Doubt it.” Hongjoong scrubs his hands down his face. “But do it anyway.”

Instead of his friends, Hongjoong is greeted by an enormous stuffed bear being forced through his doorway. He blinks.

“Uh—”

“Hi! We brought you a gift!” Yunho enthusiastically yells, muffled, against the bear’s back. “Are you feeling any better?” His face appears moments later over the stuffed animal’s shoulder, flushed and disheveled. “San brought snacks.”

“Aw, come on, don’t ruin the surprise!” San whines still just out of view. 

It’s a testament to just how much he’s missed them that just seeing San and Yunho bickering makes tears well up across his vision, makes his chest feel tight with affection. He manages a supremely unimpressive, “Hey,” before his chin crumples and Hongjoong has to hastily turn away to scrub away the mortifying rush of tears falling over his cheeks.

He feels San’s hands across his cheeks before he hears him. “Aw, _baby_ ,” he fawns. “Are you still feeling that bad?”

Hongjoong blearily looks up at San’s concerned face and shakes his head. Time and distance has accomplished fuck all other than to reinforce just how _gone_ he is for these two men. Feeling open and honest and vulnerable, he hiccups a low, “No, I just missed you both.”

“We missed you too.” San tenderly kisses his forehead. “At least you don’t feel warm.”

Yunho flops to his bed with the bear still in his grip, grinning ear to ear and patting the space next to him. “Come name the newest addition to the family.”

“Is this going to turn into an argument like the Build a Bear thing?” Hongjoong thinks _screw it_ and opts to crawl into Yunho’s lap. Might as well enjoy this while it lasts. Yunho welcomes him by throwing the stuffed bear to the side and winding his arms around Hongjoong’s waist. “Because I’m preemptively bowing out if it’s another Gregory debacle—”

“Gregory is a perfectly acceptable name for a British gentleman,” Yunho snottily informs him.

“It’s a stuffed animal,” Hongjoong groans. “San, help me, tell Yunho the bear he made shouldn’t be named fucking _Gregory.”_

San spins around in Hongjoong’s desk chair a few times, fingers steepled beneath his mouth, before he stops and props his feet in Hongjoong’s lap. “I’m going to go with...no.”

Hongjoong curls his hands around San’s bony ankles and pouts. “You never support me.”

“I support you plenty.” San lobs a small bag at Hongjoong’s lap. “I wasn’t sure if your throat was sore but I bought you your favorite cherry candy anyway.”

Sure enough, nestled at the bottom of the crinkled plastic is a small mountain of cherry sours and a ginseng shot for health. He can’t remember ever mentioning his favorite candy, but maybe he’d bought a pack or two on one of their group movie nights. The fact that San had noticed…

“Thank you.” Hongjoong whispers and quietly resigns himself to being in love with a couple who were too busy being in love with each other to notice. He’ll just have to learn to be lonely.

**\---------------------------------**

Still metaphorically licking his wounds, Hongjoong is somehow bullied into participating in a charity auction some junior members of the music department faculty are hosting in an effort to drum up money for new program licenses and better equipment for student use. Jiwoo and Mingi both corner him while he’s busy daydreaming with a tiny handful of cherry sours. 

“Okay,” Hongjoong says before he can process their question and quickly backtracks. “Wait, what?”

“Hongjoong has agreed,” Jiwoo cheers loudly for the benefit of anyone listening in. “Awesome, I can’t wait to see you in a skirt.”

Hongjoong gapes as Jiwoo disappears to gloat about her recruiting abilities to anyone who will listen while Mingi hides his face against the wall of Hongjoong’s office to stifle his loud guffaws. 

“Oh fuck you, dude. What did I just agree to?”

“It’s a dinner date auction for charity, hyung,” Mingi manages through his mirth. “And an excuse to spend a night giving a big middle finger to perceived gender norms. I’ve got a jean skirt ready to go already.”

Hongjoong wistfully dreams of bashing his own head open on the cool laminate desktop. “I’ve got to stop agreeing to things I don’t hear in the first place.”

“You really do,” Mingi agrees. “Tell your friends, maybe they’ll feel inclined to spend a bunch of their internet money for a good cause.”

Like hell.

**\---------------------------------**

The day of the auction is spent pawing through the hidden drawer of his prettiest unmentionables and cursing when Hongjoong finds his favorite skirt creased and unwearable—the silk all fucked up on one side where even an iron on low setting couldn’t fix it in time. He settles on his second favorite, the one Yeosang makes fun of because it barely covers his ass and is a nightmarish lime green, and a pair of panties he pulls out only on occasions where he needs the extra confidence boost. Parading himself on stage for a charity auction is one thing, it’s another to have to sit through at least an hour of well-meaning ribbing from his students or other faculty members depending on who wins. 

In front of his bedroom mirror, Hongjoong pauses with the skirt half-way up his thighs and allows himself a single wistful moment wondering how Yunho and San would react if they could see him now: standing half-naked in his room, panties tucked just so over his balls, and almost entirely waxed from the neck down. He wilts. They’d probably shower him with compliments and then go fuck each other in a different room—the tokens of affection meaningless when Hongjoong isn’t part and party to their intimate moments. 

_Yunho and San are together and have been for years_ , Hongjoong tries to remind himself, _they don’t need you getting in the way._

Heart twinging, Hongjoong shakes off the funk before it can really take hold and sets off to the university. Maybe a night of fun will be just what he needs to get his mind off them.

**\---------------------------------**

Jongho is in the middle of tracing the outline of Hongjoong’s mouth with vibrant, neon red liner to rival Mingi’s flaming head when he asks, “Are your boyfriends coming to bid on you tonight?”

So much for trying to take his mind off them for a while. Hongjoong grimaces. “No, I didn’t tell them the auction was happening.”

“Shame,” Jongho sighs. “I think they’d get a kick out of how pretty you look right now.”

As if he needed the crushing reminder that San and Yunho were completely and totally uninterested in him. Hongjoong squeezes his eyes shut. “Jongho, please, just drop it. I don’t want to think about them right now, I need a break.”

“From what?” Jongho starts snickering to himself. “From how much they adore you? How San never shuts up about how much he likes seeing you in his sweaters?”

God. Fuck. It would have been kinder if Jongho had punched him directly in the solar plexus instead. Hongjoong hastily wipes at a tear trying to slip over the corner of his right eye and bats Jongho’s hands away from his face. “Drop it. I mean it.”

Jongho hesitates, arms still raised like he’s going to apply some other type of makeup or go in for a hug. “Hyung?”

Hongjoong gives himself a moment to straighten his blouse as a cover for his almost breakdown. “Just—they really aren’t my boyfriends and I’d rather not think about them right now, okay? I’m sad enough as it is.”

Jongho gives him a strange look, but actually does as he’s told for once and stops talking long enough to finish applying Hongjoong’s lipstick and his mascara before declaring him finished. “Hold on I want a picture before you go out there.” Jongho gleefully holds his phone at an atrocious angle to capture Hongjoong’s best features. “For posterity.”

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” Hongjoong lies. He dutifully poses for exactly two pictures before he’s kicking at the back of Jongho’s shins, leaving Jongho to whine pitifully to anyone who will listen in favor of tracking down Jiwoo to steal a pair of her extra shoes. He somehow doubts he’ll be getting any real amount of bids if he climbs onstage in hyper feminine clothing except for some ratty converse. 

Jiwoo hands him a pair of too small kitten heels with a smirk. “Try not to break a leg, yeah?”

“I can walk just fine, thank you very much.” Hongjoong crinkles his nose at her. 

Jiwoo only rolls her eyes and waves him off, clearly unimpressed with his ability to wear shoes. Mingi isn’t much better, bent double laughing his ass off at him backstage as they wait for their respective calls as Hongjoong wobbles and holds himself up with the nearest wall.

“You’re like a little baby deer,” Mingi cackles harder, face going nearly purple with his laughter. “Shit, dude, are you going to be okay to stand? Do I need to get Jongho to hold you up?”

Hongjoong huffs, aggravated. “I’m _fine_. These just take some getting used to.”

Mingi snorts. “I’m in five inch stilettos and you don’t see me falling all over the place.”

“Whatever, not all of us have perfect balance.” Hongjoong grudgingly admits Mingi seems to be waltzing around with ease in the platform shoes Hongjoong watched Jiwoo eagerly thrust into Mingi’s arms, wild-eyed and aggressive. 

“You’re like every mommy dom’s wet dream,” she’d told Mingi with the utmost sincerity. “For real, if you don’t actually go home with someone tonight I would love to peg you later.”

Hongjoong had to grab Jongho by the waist to prevent him from going for her jugular, but Mingi, sweet baffled Mingi, had just grinned. “I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment but thank you?”

Jiwoo gave him a thumbs up and then went on to harass some of her juniors into submission. Hongjoong is still trying to figure out if she was actually serious or not, it’s hard to tell with her.

Mingi nudges him. “Hey, you’re up.”

“Right.” Hongjoong takes a deep breath, steels his nerves, and proceeds to trip up the entire way to the center stage. They’ve centered all the spotlights to the center so that even if he squints, Hongjoong can’t make out a single face in the crowd beyond the front row of dining tables and smiling senior faculty members. A blessing considering he’s not sure if he’ll be able to look any one of them in the eye for the next month and some change.

“Kim Hongjoong, everyone!” Polite clapping, someone wolf whistles in the back. Hongjoong cringes, fidgeting with the end of his skirt. The announcer boos low over the microphone. “You’re not going to give us a spin or anything?”

Hongjoong pinches the bridge of his nose. “Matthew, for fuck’s sake just get on with it.”

“Spoilsport.” Matthew huffs. “Alright, our last contestant—er, prize? Date? Ended at five thousand won. Do I hear three?”

From the back of the auditorium someone calls out, “One million!” 

Hongjoong snaps his head up as his blood slowly freezes. He _knows_ that voice. He’s heard that voice in his dreams and in his head when he’s desperately getting off in the shower. He’s been pining after that voice for close to half a year. 

San.

What is _San_ doing here?

“Two million!” Echoes almost instantly after the first bid. Hongjoong’s knees wobble, less from the heels and more from the sudden rush of holygodmotherfuck why are San and Yunho _both_ here? 

“Damn son, you’re pretty popular,” Matthew laughs at him over the mic. “Anyone else want in on the action?”

“Three million,” San calmly shouts, “And I’ll take him!”

“Bruh, for three million won you can have him.” Matthew strikes the gavel to his makeshift auctioneer’s stand. “Come get your dinner date! Up next: Song Mingi!”

Hongjoong feels as if he’s having an out of body experience watching San appear from the darkness, grinning smugly from ear to ear, and holding out a hand to help Hongjoong down from the stage to lead him to his and Yunho’s table situated in the back.

“You two are so embarrassing! How did you even find out about tonight?” Hongjoong moans under the uproar of cheers rising up around them for the generous donation. San still has his left hand in a vice grip to help him balance on the leg shaking heels. They’re barely an inch in height but Hongjoong feels as if he’s walking on stilts the size of skyscrapers. “And did you _have_ to start at one million? My sunbaes all ended at a couple thousand, they’re going to make fun of me!”

Yunho shrugs, completely unconcerned with Hongjoong’s reputation. “Jongho sent us a picture of you getting pretty backstage and we wanted to see it for ourselves.” He pulls back a chair and reaches out to kiss Hongjoong’s right knuckles. “We had to start high to make sure everyone knew you were off limits. You can’t blame us for doing something nice for _charity_ , hyung.”

San nods enthusiastically. He delicately pushes Hongjoong down into the proffered chair and shifts him forward to the edge of the table when Hongjoong gives in and sits. “Besides, how would it look if we let our boyfriend be auctioned off for so little?” San tuts. “Think of the optics.”

Hongjoong’s muscles seize hard enough that his back twinges. They hadn’t really—up until now, he was just under the assumption the couple just liked messing with him, liked getting him riled up and flustered in the dance hall for their own amusement and kissing him as a consolation prize for allowing it to happen. Yunho and San have always been so in tune with each other, Hongjoong thought there was no place for him there, doomed to remain a sad bystander watching their romance and wishing he could be part of it.

Meekly, he croaks, “Boyfriend?”

San’s eyebrows rise high on his forehead and he grins wide open and dimpled. “Yeah? You want something?”

“No, I mean—” Hongjoong stops to lick along his suddenly too dry lips, shivering at the way Yunho tracks the movement with a heated glance. _Oh._ “I didn’t realize we were dating.”

“What,” San says flatly. 

Yunho leans his heavy weight into Hongjoong’s side and sighs gustily against his ear. Hongjoong’s skin prickles from the heat radiating from Yunho’s mouth. “That was a terrible joke and you know it. Try something believable next time.”

Hongjoong picks at the folded napkin in front of him, acutely aware of the several tables surrounding them full of nosy students, and clears his throat. “I was being serious. I know you two are involved, but I, um, I thought you guys just like to kiss me for fun. To tease me.” When he looks up from his napkin, Yunho’s eyes are huge and San is clutching at his head. “Maybe I was wrong?”

Yunho ducks his head beneath the table like he’s searching for something. “Are we on a hidden camera show? Is this a prank? You legally have to tell me if I ask, those’re the rules Hongjoong!”

“This isn’t real.” San scrubs a hand down his face. “If we have to redo every single date up until this point I will _actually_ throw a fit up there right in the middle of the stage.”

The gavel strikes again to announce another round of bidding. Mingi is up to bat and struts on stage with his jean skirt and vibrantly pink lipstick, blowing kisses to the crowd to help kickstart the bidding frenzy. Someone bids five hundred thousand and Mingi grins triumphantly, flamboyantly dipping a shoulder out of his flowy button down in thanks and the resulting wolf-whistles and excited laughter crashes over the auditorium. All of it is background noise to the sudden all-encompassing rush of blood to his face at this new and world tilting information.

Hongjoong feels suddenly dizzy. “Wait, does this mean I’m allowed to touch your abs any time I want?”

“Oh my god,” San finally hisses under his breath. “Yunho, grab him. I’m going to go pay and then we’re going to have a _discussion_ like _adults_.”

“You got it,” Yunho salutes. While San stomps off with his wallet held like a weapon in his clenched fist, Yunho scoots out of his chair and drops down in a crouch with his back turned, fingers wiggling behind him. “Hop on.”

“Do I have to?” Hongjoong gnaws at his bottom lip. Their table is closer to the back of the auditorium so most of the attention is centered still at Mingi doing increasingly vulgar dance moves on the stage for amusement, but still it’s a little insulting to be offered a piggyback ride like a child. “Yunho…”

Yunho flashes him a grin, sharp with a promise of _something_ caught up in the corners. “Yes, you do, unless you want to walk all the way to the parking garage in those heels.”

It’s awkward to shift to Yunho’s back in a miniskirt, but he manages by holding the back down with one hand and gripping tight to Yunho’s overpriced bougie Bape hoodie in the other. Yunho accepts his weight with ease, muscles hard beneath Hongjoong’s fingers and the hands wrapping around his legs are a steady firm grip. San doesn’t immediately meet them outside though and his absence feels like a sucking black hole, a horrible almost tangible emptiness that makes Hongjoong’s heart throb. The auditorium is already out of view by the time he finally speaks up. “Is San…is he mad at me?” 

Yunho hums. “He’s probably just frustrated with himself.” He pauses long enough to twist his neck to make eye contact. “You...hyung, you know we love you, right? Like. Not as friends—at least not _exclusively_ as friends. I kiss San because we like each other and we kiss _you_ because we genuinely adore you.”

Hongjoong fiddles with a string in Yunho’s hoodie. “I thought it was all wishful thinking on my part.”

“It’s not,” Yunho firmly informs him and they set off towards the cement parking garage again. “I thought I knew the answer to this already, but just to be clear, do you like me? And San? We’re kind of a package deal, so…”

Hongjoong buries his face in Yunho’s neck to hide. It’s dark, but the streetlights around campus illuminate them enough that Hongjoong knows his cheeks are visibly flushed. “Very much.”

Yunho shifts him in his arms with a tiny hop and self-satisfied hum. 

San meets them just as they cross the entrance of the garage, doubling over to catch his breath from running the length of a football field. 

“Hey, babe!” Yunho chirps.

San glares and says through clenched teeth, “Put him down.”

Yunho’s back vibrates with suppressed laughter though he does as he’s told, dipping low enough that Hongjoong can drop back to the pavement and waits for him to get his balance before stepping away.

Hongjoong feels his already flushed cheeks get darker under San’s hot-eyed scrutinizing look. “So, I have been reliably informed—”

San doesn’t let him finish, surging into Hongjoong’s personal bubble and pulling him in by his ears to land a bruising kiss to his mouth. It’s so unlike any of the other kisses San dropped on him out of the blue that Hongjoong whines, high pitched and shocked, scrabbling at San’s shirt to twist his fingers in the material and drag him in closer. He feels Yunho rub a soothing hand down over the dips of his spine, but it doesn’t so much calm Hongjoong down as make him shivery with need and he lets an involuntary moan slip at the pressure.

San backs up just enough to touch their foreheads together. “That wasn’t me trying to tease you. Okay?”

San’s mouth is smudged with the cherry red lipstick they forced on Hongjoong backstage. Hongjoong delicately wipes away the worst of the stain with the edge of his thumb and nods. He rasps, “More than okay.”

“Good,” San says, voice throaty and pleased. “Seeing as we’re on the same page, can we go makeout in the car now? That skirt is driving me _crazy_.”

Yunho wraps his arms around Hongjoong’s middle, pressing his burgeoning erection against Hongjoong’s hip. “Glad I’m not the only one.”

Hongjoong groans. “Jesus, why are you so hard already?”

“Well _excuse me_ for finding my boyfriends kissing really hot.” Yunho lifts his nose in the air, fingers tickling along Hongjoong’s navel as San laughs at them. “Also I’ve had my hands on your thighs for the last ten minutes. Cut me some slack, I am but a man.”

San drops another tender to kiss to his mouth, a gentle press of skin that leaves Hongjoong breathless by the end of it, blinking hazily at San’s triumphantly grinning face when they separate again. 

“Do you even watch any of our videos that you don’t film?” 

Hongjoong shakes his head. 

Behind him, Yunho makes a noise of disgust and drops his head to Hongjoong’s shoulder. “No wonder you were confused. We’ve been showing you off to our followers for _months_.”

Hongjoong folds his hands over Yunho’s wrists still locked around his waist. “Really?”

“Really.” Yunho shakes one hand free so he can direct Hongjoong’s chin to the side to bite at his bottom lip, soothing away the sting with a slow swipe of his tongue that leaves Hongjoong weak kneed and panting by the time Yunho is satisfied with his work. 

San steps in so close that Hongjoong can feel the hard flex of his stomach muscles against his knuckles, still wrapped around Yunho’s wrist for balance, and drops a kiss to his cheek, moving to slant his mouth over Yunho’s afterwards. Hongjoong swallows down a whimper watching them move against one another so familiarly—how Yunho’s cheeks flush pink, how San grins against Yunho’s mouth, how San shamelessly flicks his tongue against the seam of Yunho’s lips, backing away before Yunho can return the favor just to hear Yunho whine at being denied. 

Hongjoong unthinkingly shifts harder against Yunho and is rewarded with a deep aching growl of his name for his efforts. It’s an immediate confidence boost, like a final reward for all of his internal pining over the last six months, and Hongjoong decides he’s allowed, at this juncture, in keeping his hips shifting just so against Yunho’s erection and reaches out to run his hands along the dips and valleys of San’s muscular abdomen. Because he can. Because San wants him to. Because they’re probably _dating_ and Hongjoong likes them enough that he thinks it’s okay to be greedy for this, touching San and Yunho at the same time in different yet similar ways.

San grabs his hands before they can explore very far. “Car,” San reminds them, voice dark and eyes darker. “ _Please_.”

Hongjoong squawks when Yunho scoops him up in a fireman’s carry and his skirt rides up almost over the curve of his ass. “Stop, put me down! You’re going to make me flash the security cameras!”

San snorts somewhere ahead of them, already leading the way for Yunho to follow with Hongjoong flung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“If I put you down now, we’re going to end up giving the security camera more of a show than a flash of your boxers,” Yunho says reasonably. Hongjoong can feel one of Yunho’s hands trailing up from behind the curl of his knee towards his ass, ending just under the swell of it where his skirt is starting to bunch up and flattens his fingers along the edge. “I’ll try to preserve your maidenly modesty as best I can.”

Hongjoong only just resists the urge to kick his feet out like a mule, embarrassment raging in his veins. “I—I’m, I’m not wearing _boxers_.”

At least two car lengths in front of them, San cackles. “Afraid someone is going to see your tighty-white briefs? That’s cute.”

Hongjoong balances his elbows on Yunho’s back to hide his face behind his hands again. “Not briefs either.” Yunho tenses beneath him and Hongjoong bites back another wail of mortification. “Please, _please_ don’t say anything.”

“Hyung,” Yunho rasps, fingers trailing higher beneath Hongjoong’s skirt. “Are you telling me you’re wearing—”

“I told you not to say anything!”

Yunho huffs, and yells plaintively, “San, Hongjoong is going to fucking _kill me_!”

“I am aware,” San growls back at them, still focused on finding their egregiously expensive SUV lost in a sea of beaten up sedans and college work trucks. “Goddamn, dude, where did you park? I swore I told you to stay on the first level.”

“It’s towards the back, we got here too late for a good spot.” Yunho fingers wedge higher beneath the skirt, like he can’t help himself, and Hongjoong hears him suck in a tight breath through his teeth when they make contact with the lace edges of the panties. “Fuck.”

The first drag of Yunho’s hot fingers against his skin makes Hongjoong’s blood boil, arousal starting to coil up tight in his belly. Hongjoong unconsciously rolls his hips against Yunho’s chest to get his fingers closer and ends up yelping when Yunho leans over to bite his hip in reprimand. 

“Car,” Yunho reminds him. Again. 

“Right, the car,” Hongjoong agrees, pulse fluttering. “Can I touch your abs in the car?”

“You’re obsessed. Do you have a muscle kink or something?” Yunho laughs at him good-naturedly. “Though, I mean, I think it’s fairly obvious you have free reign to do whatever you want to me. San, too.”

“Don’t go putting words in my mouth,” San grouches up ahead. 

Yunho starts giggling. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve put in your mouth.”

Whatever San’s response was going to be is erased by the familiar sound of the G-Wagon’s beep and both he and Yunho crow in victory. Hongjoong laughs at them, at the way Yunho speeds up to a full sprint in his eagerness, and idly reaches down to smooth his hands over Yunho’s butt considering it’s right there within reaching distance.

For his efforts, Yunho drops him unceremoniously into the backseat and crawls after him, caging him in on all sides while Hongjoong is still busy trying to reorient himself. The backseat is roomy, though he does have to push someone’s duffel bag to the floorboard to make room for two men splayed out over the seats.

“Oh,” Hongjoong breathes when Yunho dips down to mouth along the column of his throat. “ _Oh god_.”

Hazily, he hears San curse. Yunho pauses his ministrations to look back. “What? What’s wrong?” 

Hongjoong throws a leg over Yunho’s thigh trying to pull him back down. “Tell San to get in the fucking car.”

“I would love to,” San coos at him over Yunho’s shoulder, before grumbling, “But we don’t have enough time left on the parking voucher to really do anything though. Someone is going to have to drive us home in the next ten minutes.”

Yunho purses his mouth. “I drove here.”

“I paid for our bids,” San fires back. 

“You got to see Hongjoong in a skirt first.”

“Yes,” San seethes, “and you’ve been getting up close and personal with him for the last twenty minutes. You drive!”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. _Men_. “Do I get a say in any of this?”

Yunho glances down at him and grins a little goofily. “Do you want one?” 

Hongjoong stretches his fingers out until they touch the steadily fogging window above his head and feels the deeply satisfying thrum of excitement slide along his spine when he notices both San and Yunho craning to see the skin revealed by his shirt riding up his stomach.

“Nah,” Hongjoong finally settles on. “This is kind of fun watching you guys fight over who gets to touch me first. Makes up for all those months I spent crying in the shower while I jerked off to your faces.” San and Yunho’s aggravated frowns melt into twin expressions of horror and guilt. Affection swelling in his chest, Hongjoong rubs at a smudge of lipstick he’d left on Yunho’s mouth. “Someone volunteer or else I’m going to make you both sit up front while I jerk off back here and neither of you get to watch.”

“I’ll drive,” Yunho instantly volunteers. “I’ll—I know the back roads to the house better than San does.”

“Okay,” Hongjoong says agreeably and hitches his leg up to release Yunho from the cradle of his hips, skirt riding up high enough on his thighs he knows the black silk lace peeks out from beneath. “Get to it then.”

Yunho murmurs another round of complimentary expletives, kisses him deep and angry for an instant before grabbing the keys from San and rocketing to the driver’s seat. San laughs at them both, and then he’s finally, _finally_ joining Hongjoong in the backseat, threading his fingers into Hongjoong’s hair and closing the door. He doesn’t cage Hongjoong in like Yunho had, only sits close enough that he can place Hongjoong’s legs in his lap, keeps a palm cupped over his knees and rubs his thumb in gentle circles along Hongjoong’s scalp.

Over the rumble of the engine, San whispers a simple, “Hey.”

Hongjoong leans his cheek against San’s arm, trying and failing to stop himself from smiling like an idiot. “Hi.”

“You do look really pretty tonight in case Yunho failed to mention it.” San runs the fingertips not tangled in Hongjoong’s hair up over his knees until they reach the edge of Hongjoong’s skirt. He doesn’t go any farther towards the obscene tent where Hongjoong is hard and aching, arousal still simmering hot in his veins though much easier to manage now that he’s got some room to breathe. “I really am sorry you thought we weren’t just as head over heels for you as we are for each other. We should have communicated that better.”

Hongjoong shakes his head. “You’re here now,” he says, and almost instantly loses his train of thought as San rubs over the lace edge once, twice, shifting higher until his fingertips are grazing just shy of Hongjoong’s cock. “Y—you, um, I—”

San’s mouth quirks up on one side. “I what?”

“Fuck,” Hongjoong slurs. They take a turn that forces San’s hand over his base, hot palm gripping him for an instant before San takes his hand away again. San—his _boyfriend—_ darts down to bite his thigh, keeps his mouth there to suck a hickey like he’s marking his place. “ _Shit_ , San, _please—_ ”

“If you don’t want me to crash then you two need to shut up for, like, five minutes,” Yunho tells them through gritted teeth. “It’s hard enough to concentrate with a boner, I don’t need the sound effects to make it worse.”

“Sucks for you because I’m not stopping,” San informs him brightly. “If you can’t make it then just drive us to that weird forest road we stopped at the last time you needed your dick sucked before we got home.”

“That was one time,” Yunho grumbles back. Hongjoong notes his ears have gone red and has to cover his mouth to stop from laughing.

San leans over him to whisper conspiratorially, “The day you mastered the Bapsae choreo Yunho demanded I fuck him in front of those mirrors so he could fantasize about you being there too.”

Hongjoong supposes it’s okay that his cock noticeably throbs from the imagined visual and that San watches, that San curses again and pulls Hongjoong into his lap, his thighs on either side of San’s hips making the skirt spread almost all the way up to his waist revealing his best pair of lace underwear. It criss-crosses in the front with strips of black elastic, his cock rests right in the center of them, not quite visible but not exactly hidden either. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, princess,” San breathes hot and humid against his mouth. “Can I touch you?”

Hongjoong nods, fisting his hands in San’s hair to crush their mouths together while San touches him as if he’s starving for it. He roves his hands over Hongjoong’s body like he can’t decide what he wants to touch first and has come to the conclusion he wants to be everywhere at once: scraping over Hongjoong’s thighs, thumbing over his nipples, rubbing up his back and back down until he can work a hand in the back of Hongjoong’s underwear.

“Wait, wait—”

Hongjoong separates to breathe ragged and open mouthed against San’s neck, reaching back to grab San’s wrist rubbing tantalizingly over the crack of his ass. Desperation has him panting shy cut-off whimpers, his cock hard and throbbing between his legs with an ache he hasn’t experienced since those first few days of getting to know these two and dealing with trying to repress his ridiculous, useless crush. 

San brushes hair away from his face. “Everything alright?”

Hongjoong can only nod as he catches his breath, breathes in through his nose to help try and calm himself down. “‘S fine, great, awesome, I’m just kinda close.” He hiccups another whimper of pleasure when San coos and slides his teeth over the edge of his jaw. “Want Yunho to be here.”

“I am here though,” Yunho calls from the front seat. 

Hongjoong shakes his head. “The first time I come I want to be touching both of you.” San bites his earlobe. “I want—I want to— _San_ , for the love of god if you don’t cut it out _—”_

“Mmm,” San agrees, going back to sliding his teeth over Hongjoong’s jaw. “How much farther do we have to go before we stop, Yunho?”

“Pulling in now,” Yunho grates out. “Give me a minute to find a good spot and I’ll be back there, Hongjoong, I promise.”

“Good,” Hongjoong sighs. He feels woefully underdressed like this, his bottom half exposed as it is and, at some point, San had gotten his blouse almost completely unbuttoned. He tugs on San’s shirt with a frown. “Take this off.”

“Yes, your majesty,” San jokes, but wastes no time in working his shirt off in the cramped space between them. “Better?”

“Much,” Hongjoong grins. 

The car is almost too dark for him to get a good look, but San’s abs are still there, the muscles still jump beneath his touch. Hongjoong spreads his fingers wide over the expanse of skin. San had always seemed like forbidden fruit—something he was only ever allowed to look at and never touch, never sink his teeth into or taste. He’d always been just out of reach even when he was joking and rolling around with Hongjoong in his arms, draped over Hongjoong’s back while they both laughed at Yunho trying some new dance move and that ended with him flailing erratically instead. Now, here, shirtless and black-eyed in the back seat of their car, San is suddenly, improbably available--open and willing and grinning up at Hongjoong like he’s opened the best sort of present.

“I like you,” Hongjoong blurts out, helpless and entirely too earnest. “I’m gay and I think your muscles are hot and I just really, really like you.”

San’s face smooths out to one of happy serenity and he hugs Hongjoong around the waist. “Good, because all of that right back at you.” He snorts, the sound getting caught up against Hongjoong’s chest. “Maybe not so much the muscle part though. That’s still a work in progress.”

“Brat.”

San grins up at him. “ _Your_ brat though.”

“Mine,” Hongjoong whispers, bashful, thumbing over San’s mouth while his pulse gets back under control. “And Yunho’s.”

The car jerks to a stop. While they wait for Yunho to get the lights off and into the backseat, San flicks his wet tongue out to lick over the whorl of his thumb, sucking the digit into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, eyes sparkling when Hongjoong can do nothing but gape and watch completely entranced. San’s eyes narrow just the slightest bit when Hongjoong lets out an involuntary breathless moan, fucks his hips up so Hongjoong can feel just how hard he is for this, for _him_. 

“And you’re _ours_.” Yunho, disheveled from his climb from the driver’s seat, runs his hands possessively over Hongjoong’s back, catching on his shirt and dragging it up to bunch under Hongjoong’s armpits. He feels Yunho’s forehead connect with his shoulder blade, followed by a quiet and unsure, “Right? Please say yes.”

“Of course I am,” Hongjoong reassures him. Maybe now would be a good time to finally admit just how much he’s wanted this, how much he’s longed to be here with the both of them, how many times he invited himself into Yeosang’s bed for comfort snuggles when everything felt like too much—watching and waiting from the sidelines and thinking he was never going to be good enough. Yunho leaves a hot press of his mouth to Hongjoong’s spine and splays his huge palm over Hongjoong’s belly, his pinky making contact with the wet tip of Hongjoong’s aching cock.

Another day, then.

San hums around Hongjoong’s thumb before popping off. “You should let us spoil you tonight. Let us show you what you’ve been missing.”

It almost feels like too much having them just breathing against his neck and touching along his waist, feeling San hard beneath him and Yunho shivery with excitement against his back, and Hongjoong can barely process how turned on he is just to have their attention like this. The second either of them touch him, really get their hands on his most sensitive places, he’s going to—

“Let me suck you off,” Yunho suggests, voice gravel rough with lust. “Wanna put my mouth on you so bad, hyung.”

“Christ,” Hongjoong whines, shakes, reaches out blindly to fist his hand in Yunho’s hair and drag his mouth closer. “Whatever you want, I’m yours.”

Yunho happily allows him to bite his bottom lip, to tongue over his heart shaped cupid’s bow, and then he’s giggling and pushing at Hongjoong’s chest to get him to lie back. San moves over to give them room, pulling Hongjoong down until his head lands in San’s lap to where all it would take for Hongjoong to get him in his mouth is a small shift of his head. 

He’s dizzy with possibilities—he could pull San out from his jeans, mouth at him while Yunho peels him out of his underwear; he could touch San’s stomach muscles; he could hold San’s hand and fist Yunho’s hair at the same time. His head is already fogging from the way Yunho is kissing down his trunk, swirling his tongue along the divots of his hips, blowing aggravatingly slow breaths over the slick tip of his dick barely peeking over the edge of his panties.

San leans down to kiss him, a sweet short peck, and nuzzles their noses together. “I didn’t think you’d be this quiet.”

“Thought about it a lot, did you?” Hongjoong laughs, followed quickly by a broken wheeze as Yunho peels off his underwear. 

His knees shake. His teeth chatter. Hongjoong is man enough to admit he’s fairly sure it’s nerves more than it is arousal, even though the look on Yunho’s face right now is anything but judgmental. Hongjoong has only ever hooked up with one other person and some part of him is worried San and Yunho are going to think he’s not worth their time. Maybe his performance here in the car is going to be so terrible they decide he’s not worth the trouble.

San wipes almost all of his worries away with a simple, “Every day since pretty much the instant you walked in to our dance studio wearing that ugly minion beanie and those clear grandpa glasses.” San grins a little wry. “Yunho cried the first time he kissed you, by the way. Right after the teddy bear incident. Just came running home bawling because he was so happy and wanted to brag.”

“Don’t expose me like this, asshole,” Yunho complains, trying to get the underwear off Hongjoong’s legs without also taking off the heels for some reason. “And anyway _you_ named a body pillow so you could pretend to cuddle Hongjoong when he wasn’t around.”

San scowls. Hongjoong watches his pink cheeks grow crimson red in embarrassment and smiles. “Good to know you’re _both_ whipped pieces of shit.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” San smooths a hot, damp hand down Hongjoong’s chest to run his nails over the head of Hongjoong’s cock sitting angry and wet and throbbing along his belly. “You stand to benefit the most from it, you know.”

Hongjoong arches into the sensation. “I know.”

Yunho smacks San’s hand out of the way, leaves a single wet kiss to the skin of Hongjoong’s left hip, and wastes little time in trying to swallow Hongjoong’s cock down to the root in one slick glide. Hongjoong smears what’s left of his lipstick over the back of his hand trying to stifle his loud gasping breath punched out of him by the feel of Yunho’s lips rolling over him, the wet suction of his mouth, the slow pulsing tease of Yunho's tongue catching on his cockhead. Hongjoong blinks once and tears bead up along his lashline clumping his eyelashes together. He can only imagine what he looks like now with his lipstick wrecked and his mascara starting to run. 

San doesn’t let him get away with trying to keep quiet for long, wrenching Hongjoong’s arm away with a firm, “No more of that. We wanna hear you.”

Yunho has Hongjoong’s thighs folded over his shoulders in the cramped space, his fingertips kneading into Hongjoong’s waist. He’s strong enough that when Hongjoong jerks, when he tries to roll his hips up against Yunho’s face, Yunho only groans around the thick weight in his mouth and keeps him still with an easy yet firm press of his hands. It’s good. It’s so good he feels close to the brink already— _again_ , the rush of his orgasm sitting just on the cusp of his tongue.

“‘M gonna sound s-stupid,” Hongjoong sobs, embarrassed. “Yunho, Yunho, I’m really close! You gotta stop!”

Yunho ignores him in favor of running a hand under his ass, thumb grazing over the greedy clench of his hole and pressing down until Hongjoong feels gaped open and exposed.

San’s knuckles bump up against his cheek when he goes to palm himself through his jeans with a guttural moan. “You sound fucking hot, not stupid at all.” 

“I think you’re just biased,” Hongjoong slurs. He buries his face against San’s knuckles, playfully sliding his tongue over the bulging denim between the gaps of his fingers just to hear San growl at him. Yunho works his thumb in a slow, aching circle and Hongjoong nearly bites his own tongue from the tease of it. 

Keeping one hand gripping tight to San’s ankle, which is really the only good handhold besides San’s dick at this point, Hongjoong tugs on Yunho’s hair in warning—to be _polite—_ and is rewarded with Yunho glancing up at him, dark eyed and red cheeked, pink mouth spread wide over his dick. 

“San—San, it’s been like two minutes and I’m gonna—” Hongjoong tries to curl into himself, whole body quaking with effort to keep himself from cumming too quick and ruining the moment. “Fuck, fuck—!”

“Shh,” San whispers, and delicately traces over Hongjoong’s nipples pebbled up tight, pinching one between his fingers and smirking in triumph when Hongjoong gasps louder. “Just let Yunho take care of you, princess. It’s okay.”

Yunho hums agreement, steadily bobbing his head at a leisurely pace while his thumb works its magic, and the vibration is just enough to send him careening over the edge, sobbing against San’s crotch and accidentally crushing Yunho’s head between his thighs. San kisses him for most of it, muffling the shy “ah-ah-ah” Hongjoong can never quite hold back when he’s jerking off alone much less getting his dick sucked by someone so eye-searingly attractive as Jeong Yunho.

Yunho waits him out, thumb pressed dead center on the slow throb of Hongjoong’s opening, and when Hongjoong is finally, _finally_ wrung dry, he leans back out of the car to spit. Hongjoong is still floating somewhere in his own head when Yunho comes back, hastily ripping open his jeans and tugging himself off in quick jerks until he makes a mess of Hongjoong’s skirt. 

The visual of Yunho desperately getting off—of Yunho’s hot cum sliding over his skirt to pool in his navel—is one that will stay in Hongjoong’s spank bank for damn near forever. If San and Yunho decide to drop him later, he’ll at least have this memory to return to and is thankful he’s even allowed to experience it. 

“Was gonna help with that,” Hongjoong pouts.

Yunho laughs at him, his heavy head resting on Hongjoong’s chest while he catches his breath. “I would have come the instant you put your hand on me, it’s fine.”

“Is it,” Hongjoong wonders and sighs heavily through his nose as his anxiety spikes. San still hasn’t said anything and Hongjoong decides he doesn’t want to look at him in case he finds San trying not to laugh at him or yawning in boredom. His throat clicks when he swallows, suddenly too dry from nerves. What if they dropped him off back at Yeosang’s apartment after this and left? Kicked him out of the dance program and out of their lives? Took away his filming privileges? Pretended all of this never happened? 

Yunho drops the rest of his weight down with a huff. “San, stop taking pictures.”

Sure enough, when Hongjoong finds the courage to peek an eye open, San is guiltily hiding his phone behind his back. “But you guys look so pretty!”

“No.”

“So you’re telling me you don’t want a picture of Hongjoong covered in your cum?” Yunho is silent entirely too long. San smirks. “Knew it.”

Hongjoong covers his eyes again. “Please tell me my face isn’t in there.”

“Nah, I’m not that stupid.” San leans down to peck each of Hongjoong's fingertips curled loosely away from his forehead. Yunho grumbles happily and squeezes his arms harder around his waist. “Just your stomach and Yunho’s hands. No faces, dicks, or identifiable birthmarks in the frame.”

“That’s fine then.” Hongjoong rolls his lips between his teeth, hating how his brain can never let him enjoy anything for longer than a few minutes, already spiraling with worst-case scenarios of this all being one long inside joke so San and Yunho could laugh at him later. 

He can still feel how hot and hard San is against his cheek, the rough denim bumping up close to his mouth. “Do you want some help with that or…?”

San’s answer is to lean down and kiss him again, deep and searching until Hongjoong has to break away for air, still oversensitive. 

“How about we go home and take care of this there, mh?” San scrapes his nails along Hongjoong’s scalp in easy ownership. “Give you some time to recover before I finally get my hands on you.”

Tears spring up unbidden and Hongjoong hastily turns his head to try and scrub them away before San can notice. It’s dark enough in the car, only illuminated by a streetlight almost entirely covered by an overhanging tree limb, that he’s fairly sure San won’t immediately catch on and tease him for crying. Unfortunately his breath catches and Yunho _does_.

Yunho lifts himself up on one hand, the other carefully nudging at Hongjoong’s chin. “Hyung? Are you alright?”

“‘M fine,” Hongjoong chokes out, and it might have worked if he didn’t follow up that totally believable statement with a hiccup and poorly concealed sob behind his teeth. He watches Yunho and San trade a look of panic between them, San scrambling to brush away Hongjoong’s tears while Yunho pulls his skirt back down to cover his bottom half and haphazardly buttons his blouse so his chest is no longer exposed. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ruin the mood—”

“You’re not ruining anything,” San tells him vehemently, still dabbing away his tears. “But neither of us are mind readers so you need to use your words. Did we go too fast? Was this too much?”

“You can totally kick me in the face if you need to,” Yunho supplies earnestly.

Hongjoong laughs, pained even to his ears, and he ends up covering his face with both arms this time, elbows locked over his nose. “It wasn’t too fast and I don’t want to kick you, Yunho. I just...I’m really insecure and I can’t help but think you guys are going to change your mind and—and leave or laugh at me and tell me this was all one big gotcha moment.” 

The car goes deathly quiet to the point Hongjoong can make out the gentle whoosh of air through San’s nose when he sighs almost inaudibly to himself.

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong repeats. 

Yunho flops back down to his chest, wet mouth wobbling on Hongjoong’s neck. “You should be. I can’t believe you’d think we’d do all this as a _prank_.”

“So we really are going to have to redo all those dates,” San muses above him and he sounds more amused than he does aggravated. “I’m calling dibs on getting to kiss the heart when we go back to Build-a-Bear. You already have one with Yunho slobber all over it.”

“Rude,” Yunho accuses. “But also fair.”

Hongjoong bites his lip. “The Build-a-Bear thing wasn’t a date though?”

Yunho starts cackling, but it’s ugly with disbelief. “Oh my god, that was date number three, Hongjoong.”

“But that was over six months ago!”

“Exactly,” San interjects. “I told you before we’ve been bumbling idiots for you since day one, lesson one. Pretty sure Yunho had a religious experience teaching you how to waltz that first day.”

He hears Yunho smack San’s leg and hides a grin of amusement. “Stop bullying me!”

“Wait, wait, so that was date three, what were dates one and two?”

Yunho groans and goes boneless. San peels away Hongjoong’s arms to keep him from hiding. “It’s a good thing I love you because you are so emotionally constipated it’s unreal. Date one—”

“You love me?” Hongjoong asks in wonder. The traitorous tick of his heart skips several beats, another wave of affection swelling up in his chest threatening to swallow him whole.

“ _Date one_ ,” San says over him, face crimson, “was the both of us taking you out to eat that night we talked about you taking over filming for our tiktoks.”

“That felt more like a job interview than an actual date, San.”

“Never said it was a good one,” San mutters. He’s started in on his nervous habit of picking at Hongjoong’s fingers, squeezing against his nails and massaging along the sides. It's wonderfully familiar. Hongjoong would rather gnaw his own leg off than lose the easy as you please skinship San doles out when he's trying not to think too hard. 

“I gave you half my steak.” Yunho leans up to land a kiss to Hongjoong’s cheek, stays there to blow a wet raspberry like a brat. “If that wasn’t proof of love at first sight, then I don’t know what is.”

“It was pretty good steak,” Hongjoong allows and magnanimously chooses to ignore the smear of spit left on his skin when Yunho drops back down with a light _oof_. The acute anxiety of the past few minutes is slowly starting to subside to a more manageable background noise of _maybe maybe maybe_ Hongjoong is used to ignoring. “So. Six months?”

“And three days,” San corrects, voice pitched high with petulant annoyance, “Six months and three days of us waiting for you to be comfortable enough to be with us like this. Yunho and I both know this isn’t necessarily, like, the most typical relationship dynamic, so we didn’t want to push and you’ve always been so goddamn adorable and _shy_ …”

Yunho hums sleepy agreement against his neck. Hongjoong rubs at his back and debates the merits of staying like this to bask in the sticky humidity of an afterglow he thought he’d ruined, tacky with cum and tears and streaking mascara. San and Yunho weren’t using him as a pawn in their reindeer games against one another. They were truly, genuinely interested and had invested time and effort into making him feel comfortable for close to half a _year_ without complaining that Hongjoong wasn’t putting out or showing them enough affection or trying to push for more than they thought he could handle. It was sweet. A little misguided and they’re all going to have to work on their communication skills, but sweet.

“I’m not shy, I’m just reserved.” He squishes San’s fingers together before the next round of bashful massaging can restart. San’s dick, still caught behind layers of denim and hidden beneath his zipper, throbs against his cheek. Hongjoong turns into it and smirks. “Dude, seriously?”

San’s thighs twitch beneath him like he’s gearing up to shove Hongjoong out of the way so he can hide. “You’re fucking hot, let me live,” he whines. “And I watched both of you get off without any kind of relief so—”

“Not to mention he has a thing for you and me crying.”

San sputters an indignant, “Shut _up_!”

“Make me,” Yunho challenges.

“Okay,” Hongjoong interrupts before they can get too carried away. “Take me home.”

San wilts. “If that’s what you want. Yunho, hand me the keys and I’ll get us to Yeosang’s place.”

Yunho yawns, snuggling into Hongjoong’s chest like a cat who’s found the best strip of sun to lounge in. “Still in the ignition.”

For the second time tonight, Hongjoong rolls his eyes and grabs one of San’s belt loops before he can get too far with the woe is me act. “ _Your_ home, dumbass. You promised to let me recover before you got your hands on me, remember?”

“You sure you’re up for that?” San’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “We don’t have to actually do anything, I was just teasing you.”

Hongjoong tugs at him until San leans far enough down that Hongjoong can scratch idly at San’s scalp, can pull him down by his ears and land a rough kiss to his mouth, all tongue and teeth and tender affection tangled up together. “I’m sure,” Hongjoong stresses when they separate. “ _Take me home_.”

Apparently mute with shock or from all the blood in his head currently residing in his dick, San nods erratically and wedges himself into the driver’s seat without bothering to put his shirt back on. The car jerks forward, Yunho saves them from rolling off the seat by slamming his hand against the back of San’s seat with a pained grunt. “San, what the hell?”

“Sorry,” San says, “My leg was just a little shaky, we’re good now. Everything is fine!”

Hongjoong maneuvers his legs back around Yunho’s waist for a more comfortable position and delights in the rough shove of Yunho’s weight pushing him against the interior. “Our boyfriend is going to get us pulled over.”

“Probably,” Yunho agrees, snickering to himself, and folds his hands over Hongjoong’s chest so he can prop his chin against his knuckles. Yunho’s lips are faintly stained with Hongjoong’s lipstick and he can’t resist, not that he necessarily wants to, from sliding his fingers across them like he’s tracing the smudge of his own mouth. Yunho lets him, lips twitching every once in a while on different passes of Hongjoong’s thumb as if he wants to say something but is holding back.

“What?”

Yunho shakes his head, gnawing bashfully at his bottom lip. “Just thinking.”

“Ooo, that’s dangerous,” San mocks. “Don’t hurt yourself, bro.”

Hongjoong throws one of his heels at the space between the front seats, aiming for the passenger side because he doesn’t actually want San to crash or swerve around and get pulled over for reckless driving. “Quit being mean to Yunho or I won’t let you fuck me when we get home.”

San makes a sound that may have been a word at one point that devolves into unintelligible gargling he tries to cover by turning the radio up loud. Yunho laughs, low and sweet, and Hongjoong tugs at his shirt until Yunho finally gets the hint, still grinning, and leans forward to kiss him again almost chaste. Hongjoong loses track of distance and time in the slow heat building again between their bodies. He can faintly taste himself on Yunho’s tongue, feels how hot Yunho’s hands are when he gets bold again and starts running them over his thighs, and instead of the slightly bitter flavor being gross as he licks into Yunho’s mouth, it mostly just makes Hongjoong’s cheeks burn and his stomach flip. 

By the time they pull into the driveway of the mansion-like home that Yunho and San rent, Yunho is already hard again and thrusting shallowly against Hongjoong’s hip, burying his throaty groans in Hongjoong’s mouth and tangling his hands in Hongjoong’s hair. They’ve both lost their shirts to the floorboard, bunched up next to the general detritus of two men who can’t clean up after themselves to save their lives along with Hongjoong’s remaining shoe and his underwear. 

Yunho mewls when the car turns off. Hongjoong grins against his mouth, charmed at how worked up and needy Yunho can be with only this much contact so soon after getting off. 

San opens the passenger door closest to Hongjoong’s head and props his chin on the edge of it, grinning hard enough his dimples deepen on his cheeks. “You two having fun back here?”

“Maybe a little too much,” Hongjoong agrees. Yunho sighs shivery and hot along the column of his throat and Hongjoong bites at the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise, waiting for Yunho to back up so they can finally untangle and get out of the backseat.

“I’ll go turn the alarm off,” Yunho offers. San accepts the kiss Yunho drops on his mouth on the way out of the car with a hum, still politely holding the car door open for Hongjoong to climb out. Some of Yunho’s cum had made its way up Hongjoong’s chest and he grimaces when the dried jizz cracks against his skin. 

“I should probably grab a shower before we do anything else.”

“We’ve got a jacuzzi,” San informs him, pulling Hongjoong forward eagerly. “I’ll show you my favorite jet setting.”

Neither of them give him enough time to take in the entranceway straight out of Millionaires Weekly before Hongjoong is unceremoniously dragged off to the top floor where, yes, an enormous jacuzzi is already slowly filling. San peels him out of his skirt, rubs a rag over the worst of the mess Yunho left on his skin, and offers him a clean towel to scrub off the streaked makeup.

“I think it makes you look hot as hell,” San growls against his neck, possessively scraping over Hongjoong’s chest down to his stomach. “But take it off if you want.”

“The lipstick is definitely something else,” Yunho agrees.

Hongjoong closes his eyes because if he gets another eyeful of Yunho naked and stripping San out of his pants then he’s going to come and this whole venture will be for naught. He drops the towel. “I’ll leave it, but nobody gets to say anything if I wake up with pimples. Got it?”

“Got it,” San husks, right up against his ear so that Hongjoong can feel the size and shape of each word. “Do you have a preference for how we do this?”

Hongjoong shivers, his cock jumps, and pushes back against San's dick rubbing against his back. “Want you to fuck me.” He lolls his head back to rest on San’s shoulder and reaches for Yunho. “And I want to return the favor for you.”

San is apparently the type that likes to take his time. He sets Hongjoong in his lap in the jacuzzi and even beneath the warm water circulating through the jets Hongjoong can feel every twitch and jerk of San’s cock pulsing against his ass, can feel the whorl of his fingertips dragging up his thighs and his groin slow, slow as if Hongjoong hasn’t been gagging for this for months. Yunho watches them from the other side, roughly palming himself beneath the churning water and Hongjoong’s mouth goes wet with how badly he wants to feel the slick smooth skin against his tongue, in the back of his throat.

“San, please,” he begs. “Please just fuck me.” 

“Thought you wanted to clean off first,” San coos, the asshole, and digs a nail into Hongjoong’s left nipple like a punctuation mark. “You’re so impatient.”

“I’m impatient because you two left me with blue balls for six fucking months,” Hongjoong hisses between his teeth, savagely grinding against San’s lap for some kind of friction. “This is me working on our communication skills: _fuck me right now_.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” San says faintly. “Up, up.”

Yunho grabs his hands to help Hongjoong out of the tub on trembling legs, so turned on it feels like every ounce of his blood is centered right in the cradle of his groin, and they slide on wet tile together until Yunho, laughing, marches him into the adjacent room with a bed that could hold a small army. Hongjoong doesn’t have the mental capacity to even take in the amount of money being casually flaunted in this room and clambers to the center of the bed, impatiently beckoning for his boyfriends to follow. San reappears with lube, pauses just long enough to kiss Yunho long and luxuriating before turning his attention to Hongjoong already propping himself up with a pillow beneath his hips.

“You sure you—”

“San,” Hongjoong interrupts, and as if a demon has taken possession of his mouth, grinds out a terse, “If you ask me if I’m sure one more time I might actually make you leave the room so I can fuck my own fingers.”

San’s mouth quirks up. “Fair.”

Yunho kneels close to his head, cock hard and leaking, gently rubs his hands over Hongjoong’s scalp. “Ready when you are.”

Hongjoong hums, tugging and pulling at Yunho’s legs so that he’s sitting down, legs twitching along Hongjoong’s sides. It makes him feel powerful having Yunho staring black-eyed and open-mouthed at him like this, totally at the mercy of Hongjoong’s lips and his tongue. He’s bigger than Hongjoong expected, having only gotten a glimpse of him in the car, but Yunho’s cock is warm and weighty and thick, fills his mouth with a satisfying stretch that makes his jaw ache in the best way.

He chokes half-way down. San has him worked open on two fingers slicked with too much lube that sounds loud under the backdrop of Yunho’s panting, gasping breaths, the shift of his feet slipping over expensive linens. Hongjoong breathes hard through his nose, muffling shy and cut-off moans of pleasure, and lets his mouth hang loose—tonguing lazily at Yunho’s cock while he’s distracted by the sweet not quite painful stretch of his ass. He pushes his hips back against San’s fingers to get them deeper, harder, clenches around them just to hear San groan.

Yunho traces the shape of himself in Hongjoong’s cheek. “Fuck you’re so gorgeous like this, Hongjoong.”

San’s fingers disappear, replaced with the wet nudge of his cockhead before Hongjoong has time to miss them, pushing into his body with a hard shove that makes his eyes roll up, forces a cracked moan of pleasure around Yunho’s dick. 

“Shit,” San curses, the word sharp and razor thin through the clench of his teeth. “You good? Still with us?”

Hongjoong allows Yunho’s cock to slip from his mouth only long enough to rasp, “I’m _perfect_ , just go,” and digs his fingers into Yunho’s hips to make him _move_ , to shove up against his face and his throat just mean enough to make it hurt.

Hongjoong comes quick, like he always does, shivering through the pulsating aftershocks with his tongue lolling out beneath Yunho’s cock. San doesn’t let him rest, just fucks his hips hard and unrelenting, dribbles lube down over the place where they’re joined until all Hongjoong can hear is the filthy squelch of their bodies connecting. He can feel it when Yunho gets close, how his cock hardens and throbs, and cries out when Yunho pulls out of his mouth, jerks off quick with one hand in Hongjoong’s hair to keep him steady. Hongjoong catches Yunho’s release on his tongue, over the bridge of his nose, feels it drip off his chin. For once Hongjoong doesn’t care that he looks filthy and debauched, makeup smeared across his face with cum and lube and spit and who knows what other bodily fluids.

Just as he’s about to tap out, body starting to twinge less in pleasure and more with aches he’s going to feel for the next two days at least, San’s fingers spasm on his hips, nails digging into his skin, and he pulls out to shoot across Hongjoong’s ass and his back. San flops boneless next to him, one hand on Hongjoong’s arm like he can’t exist without the physical connection, and they lie there in a sweaty tangle of limbs for what feels like hours until everything on Hongjoong's skin feels tacky and gross.

"Hey, boyfriend?" He bites his lip to stop himself from smiling too hard at the tandem, "Yes?" echoing from either side. Hongjoong wipes his mouth on Yunho’s thigh and laughs. “Maybe _now_ would be a good time to clean up.”

**\---------------------------------  
**

Curled up in bed some nebulous amount of time later, after they'd enjoyed a shaky round two and a second pruny soak in the jacuzzi, Hongjoong reaches across Yunho's stomach to poke San in the arm. There's a question that's been bothering him and now seems like a good a chance as any to ask. "Hey."

"Hongjoong, I love you, but I swear I cannot physically get hard again for at least six hours," San informs him, still throaty from doing that _thing_ that made Yunho cry. "Let me rest."

Yunho's chest vibrates with laughter beneath him and Hongjoong rolls his eyes. "Not that. I was going to ask—"

"Not sucking your cock either, bro."

"Not _that_ either, christ. I was going to ask why the logo to your studio looks like a bean with a dick." 

San is quiet for a long moment, the rumble of Yunho's chest beginning to shake harder beneath Hongjoong's chin.

"It really does," Yunho finally breaks and loudly cackles, grabbing a pillow and stuffing the cotton in his mouth to stop from making more noise. 

Their boyfriend throws one of the decorative pillows strewn across the bed at Hongjoong's face. "I'm breaking up with _both of you_."

Hongjoong snorts. "I'd like to see you try."

"I _will_ ," San stresses, "Make fun of my logo design one more time and see what happens."

Yunho is spread eagle between them, like a buffer, so Hongjoong feels safe in propping himself up on one elbow, wide eyed, and says deadly serious, " _Bean dick_." San glares at him, but his lips are twitching like he's trying not to laugh, dimples getting deeper with the effort of keeping his mouth shut. It's so adorable to watch that Hongjoong can't resist—doesn't _have to—_ rolling over Yunho's chest until he's wedged right in the middle and tugs at San's chin until he relents and kisses him sweet. "Love you," he coos, "Even if your logo kinda sucks."

Yunho hooks an arm around his waist with a pout. "What about me?"

"I guess you're alright," Hongjoong blithely admits. He gives up the pretense almost immediately when Yunho's pout wobbles, eyes huge and wet because he's awful and his puppy eyes are the _worst._ "I love you, too. Obviously."

The act drops as fast as it started and Yunho preens. "Good."

"Yeah." San squeezes their hands together under the covers. Hongjoong closes his eyes and smiles tiredly at the ceiling. "Really good."

**Author's Note:**

> when i tell you i went veritably insane in the process of trying to finish this, please believe me  
> shoutout to everyone that watched me lose every single one of my marbles in the public gdocs link ily don't tell anyone what horrors you've seen  
> ~ Ash<3


End file.
